


Strangers When We Meet

by Trista_zevkia



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Smallville, Superman (Comics), Superman - All Media Types, Superman/Batman (Comics), World's Finest (Comics)
Genre: Alien Biology, Identity Porn, Kryptonian, M/M, Soul Bond, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-18
Updated: 2014-02-11
Packaged: 2018-01-05 01:47:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 63,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1088153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trista_zevkia/pseuds/Trista_zevkia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clark Kent thought he was straight, until Batman kick started something. The question is what did Batman start? Is Brucie Wayne able to explain it to him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Requesting an Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> Written in response to Smallville starting the JL without Batman, founding member and giant brain. I was annoyed. Not compliant with the show for after that season, whichever season it was.  
> Previously posted elsewhere, so am self-beta-ing and up-loading here. Still won't be perfect grammar.  
> Enjoy!

Approaching police sirens determined the end of the fight, not a decisive victory, and Clark was embarrassed. The only reason his Justice League had not been soundly defeated was they outnumbered their single foe. Metropolis PD might have tipped the scales in their favor, which was why he finally fled. They could have worn him down eventually, but who knew what kind of property damage would have occurred. People might have even gotten hurt.

Composite Superman, as he called himself, had absorbed the special gifts of all the members of the JL shortly after they had officially formed. Ever since, they had been doing this stalemate dance and the only solution Clark could think up was a new dancer. Someone like Ollie, without special abilities, just in case Composite could still absorb such gifts. Composite claimed he had Green Arrow’s speed and accuracy, but there was no way to verify that, short of an archery contest. Still, everybody Clark knew with any sort of skill was already in the JL. 

sB _Sb_ Bs

Clark went about his life the next morning and buried his face in his hands when the answer popped up in his email. The _Gotham Gazette_ held the headline ‘GCPD Deny Batman Rumors Despite Bat-signal.’ The picture under the headline showed six guys tied together on a pile of hand guns. Two were unconscious, two bled from their noses and an assortment of black eyes, bruises, and limbs held at weird angles would suggest they were beaten soundly by someone. A smaller picture, off to the side, showed people in business suits standing around a spot light with a bat shape over it. The note that accompanied the emailed article told Clark to research Batman for an article, maybe a humorous look at urban legends. Well, Clark thought, it’s always nice when my other work coincides with my day job. 

Clark skipped lunch so he could leave work an hour early and head for Gotham. He still felt a little exposed in his Superman uniform, but when he landed in shadowy Gotham he felt like a neon sign. Trying to ignore the stares he got everywhere he went dressed like this was harder in Gotham. As he headed up the steps he realized he felt like the people of Gotham were sizing him up like a target. The cops and criminals coming in and out of the police station he could understand, but everybody passing by did it too. He could only force down his unease as he waited in line to speak to the nearly comatose desk sergeant. The man processed the line without looking up from his computer, until it was finally Clark’s turn. 

“Hello, I’m Superman and I would like to talk to Commissioner Gordon.” He said with a smile in his voice. 

“Heroes usually take the roof route.” The flat voice couldn’t even be bothered to try for sarcasm. He stared at the computer and Clark had to shove down irritation. 

“Well, I could have gone in through the window, but I was trying to be polite. I didn’t think I could get an appointment by phone.” 

“If you can find Arkham on your own, I will just tell the Commish to meet you there. How about that?” 

Clark swallowed a sigh. “I’m not a nutcase. I can prove I’m Superman if you like.” 

The sergeant sighed heavily and looked up at Clark, completely unimpressed by what he saw. “Prove it, and I’ll call him right now.” 

Clark floated up to the high arch of the ceiling and twirled as fast as he could. He counted twenty seconds before landing softly before the bulletproof glass that separated him from the sergeant. Another sigh and the cop finally picked up his phone. 

“Hey Hamilton, got Superman out here to see the Commish.” A snort after listening to the phone for a moment. “No, I think this might be the real deal.” 

With a final grunt as a farewell, the sergeant directed his attention back to Clark. “Take the elevator to the thirtieth floor, Hamilton will meet you. If he believes you, he’ll take you to the Commissioner.” 

“Thank you.” Clark said politely, but the man was back to his screen. 

The elevator ride seemed slow, but the whole building had seemed in need of repair. And someone to scrape that fancy, pointless stonework off the outside, Clark thought. A young cop with Hamilton on his name tag gave Clark a thorough eyeballing before he could even step out of the elevator. Clark held out his hand to shake and Hamilton rested his hand on his gun. Nervousness clawed at Clark’s stomach. He knew the gun couldn’t harm him; it was just the overall creepiness of this city. 

“Hello, Hamilton, I’m Superman. The desk sergeant sent me up.” 

“You do look more like him than the nuts we normally get.” Without the Gothic arch in the ceiling, Clark couldn’t fly here. So, in what looked like any normal office, Clark brought his knees up to his chest in midair. Hamilton walked around him, saw no wires and still looked at him funny. “Follow me.” 

Clark walked behind Hamilton, noticing how people saw him and went about their business. Clark was starting to worry about what the boss of these jaded people would be like. Just as they got to the door labeled Commissioner Gordon, Hamilton turned to frown at him again. “Wait here.” 

Clark waited while Hamilton knocked and entered the office. He was back quicker than expected and disappointed with what he had learned. “The Commissioner will see you.” 

Gordon was walking toward the door with a surprised grin and a hand out to shake. Clark took the proffered hand gratefully. 

“Superman, it’s a pleasure. Have a seat.” He pointed toward the visitor’s chair before heading for his own while speaking. “What brings you here?” 

Clark perched on the edge of the chair and went for it. “Batman.” 

Gordon tensed and Clark wondered why. Gordon offered half a smile before asking. “What, are you a reporter too?” 

Clark laughed, more out of surprise than humor. He had never been so glad to not be legally obligated to answer that question. “Commissioner, I need his help. If he’s real.” 

Gordon relaxed but still kept his words guarded. “Should I have a method of contacting this urban legend, it would only be useful at night. Bats are nocturnal, you know.” 

Clark was surprised that a city could only be protected after dark. “Really? You don’t have a number you can text or an email address?” 

Gordon grinned. “I may have received an odd text or two that provided useful information during a case, but whenever I tried to thank the sender the number came back as not belonging to anybody. Phone Company thought it was weird too.” 

“Ah.” Clark replied helpfully. “So if the spotlight on the roof was to get turned on without fixing the strangely shaped damage to the glass, it would only be visible after the sun set. I’d like to see that.” 

“Well, Superman, if you were on the roof tonight, such an accident just might occur.” This came with a small shrug and a look of innocence that did not belong on that crafty man’s face. 

Clark stood and shook his hand again. “Thank you, Commissioner, I just might see you tonight.” 

Gordon grinned. “If you don’t want to risk that rickety old elevator, these windows open easily.” 

Clark was amazed at how Gordon was taking all this, and grinned as he went to the windows. “Thanks again.” 

A jaunty wave as he floated upwards and Clark went to kill some time before sunset. 

sB _Sb_ Bs

An early supper at his apartment and stopping a gas station robbery got Clark back in time to watch the sunset from the roof of GCPD headquarters. Gordon joined him a few minutes later and flipped on the spotlight with a grin. Gordon shrugged as he stared up at the shadow and light on a passing cloud. 

“There’s no guarantee. If he’s busy he might not show up at all. But hey, you can hardly expect to have a direct phone line to a person that might not exist. He might also see you’re here and leave.” 

“I considered it.” A new voice growled out and Clark twisted around to find the source. “But after hearing so much about your visit this afternoon, I thought it would be rude to let the Commissioner down.” 

“How did you hear about that?” Clark asked with surprise. Was Gordon lying about having contact or was Batman bugging the commissioner’s office? 

A figure moved out of the shadow of the roof entrance and used his voice to tell Clark he was an imbecile. “Everything Superman does is news.” 

Clark flushed, he wasn’t stupid; he just overlooked things he considered unimportant. Embarrassed enough for one lifetime, he no longer wanted to ask this guy for help. But he had to, the situation had not changed. “Look, Batman, me and some other people who want to make a difference formed a Justice League in Metropolis. Shortly after forming, this guy acquired all our abilities and he has been able to fight us to a standstill every time. I was hoping you could tip the balance in our favor when he attacks. He’ll probably try something tonight so I could fly you to Metropolis if you would like.” 

Clark waited for Batman to say something, even a refusal. He was also aware of Gordon studying both of them from where he leaned on the roof wall beside the now turned off spotlight. Clark was considering appealing to Gordon when Batman finally spoke. 

“Does he share your weaknesses?” 

Clark blinked in surprise. It had never occurred to any of them to check; maybe he was an imbecile after all. Except, if Composite was affected by Kryptonite, Clark still wouldn’t be able to beat him because he would be powerless. “I don’t know.” 

A growl that could have been a sigh at Clark’s stupidity. “Fine. Metropolis, one hour.” 

Batman stepped backward into the shadow as Clark tried to come up with something intelligent to say. Figuring a simple thanks would have to suffice Clark called out. “Batman?” 

Irritated when no reply seemed forthcoming, Clark flipped over to x-ray only to whirl to Gordon. “He’s gone!” 

Gordon shrugged. “He does that. Anything else Gotham can do for you?” 

“No sir, the introduction was all I needed. Thank you, Commissioner, and goodbye.” 

With a small wave, Gordon headed for the door as Clark lifted off. Even as he put distance between them, Clark still heard Gordon muttering under his breath. “And good luck to you, if this partnership doesn’t work.” 

Clark almost flew back and asked what he meant by that. Did Gordon think Superman would be in trouble if Batman didn’t approve of him? Clark headed out and convinced himself he was over thinking an idle comment. 

When Chloe called and reported Ollie had seen Composite at a warehouse, Clark realized he had no way of passing on this information to Batman. Groaning at the oversight, he went to the location without much hope of resolving this thing tonight. The warehouse apparently received riding lawn mowers from around the world and then shipped them to stores in the US. Clark figured this out after a second mower was flung at Green Arrow. 

Clark placed his body in between Ollie and the mower and skittered across the floor. As he pulled the mower off of him, he felt like he was being watched. And judged. He turned to find Batman’s white lenses staring at him from the hallway that lead to the offices. As the JL was holding its own for the moment, Clark dashed over to Batman and handed him a small object. The lead lined box held only a fragment of Kryptonite, but still a very large amount to hand over to a complete stranger. 

“If he does share our weaknesses, the contents of this box should slow him down.” Clark darted back into the fight and waited for Batman to do something. After blocking his teammates from two more mowers and a third lawnmower left a sizable hole in the wall, Clark turned to tell Batman to do something. He wasn’t there. Clark cursed under his breath; he had just given Kryptonite to a stranger who betrayed them at first chance. Then blackness fell from the sky, blocking Composite from sight for a second. 

When Composite’s face was visible again, he looked like he had no idea what to do about what was in front of him. When he recovered, he used the speed he had taken from Impulse and Clark to punch Batman. He missed, only to yell his surprise and outrage. He missed a second time and Clark felt the pull of the Kryptonite before he heard the lead box clatter on the ground. Clark backed away, but couldn’t take his eyes off the fighters. 

The kryptonite didn’t seem to make Composite sick like it did Clark, but he was obviously disoriented. His punches were slower and looked weaker. Even with Impulse’s speed behind the punch, Batman just didn’t seem to be where he aimed. Batman must have gotten bored, because he caught a punch in his left hand. 

Composite roared at him. “You dare challenge me! I will rip your essence away as easily as I did theirs!” 

Batman released his fist and said, with contempt in his calm voice. “Try it.” 

Composite glanced at the frozen JL members as if looking for advice or assistance. He had no more idea how he got his abilities then the JL. Batman snorted in disgust and began punching with the right hand, where the green rock was concealed. Six total punches and Batman turned his back on Composite. A step forward and he swooped down to pick up the lead box as Composite crumpled to the ground behind him. 

Impulse recovered first and his applause roused the others. Clark felt the Kryptonite disappear into the lead and joined in. He had no idea what else to do. Batman just stood there and Clark really wished he could see his eyes, so he would have some clue what Batman thought of this standing ovation. Impulse rushed up, grabbed his hand and started pumping as he talked. 

“Man, that was great Bats! Turning away before he fell and challenging him to take your powers! How did you know he couldn’t absorb your gifts?” 

“If he could absorb still, you’d have been able to track him by the trail of bodies.” Batman’s calm was so refreshing after Impulse’s enthusiasm. “Don’t call me Bats.” 

“Really!” Impulse cut in. “What about normal people? Cause we were never sure if he got his accuracy from Ollie…” 

“Impulse!” Green Arrow and Black Canary cried out at the same time, but all eyes were focused on Batman. Clark knew without seeing it that Batman was rolling his eyes under those lenses as he spoke. 

“I don’t care what Queen gets up to with his nights. As long as he doesn’t do anything, stupid.” Batman’s voice dropped a register on that last word, managing to promise retaliation for anything he found to be lacking in intelligence. 

Ollie grabbed Batman’s arm and choked out. “How?” 

Batman stared down at the hand until it was removed, then he answered. 

“You’re young, rich and famous. How often have you posed for the press wearing sunglasses?” Clark had been too amazed at the scene unfolding to join the people gathered around Batman, but he could still feel the blush on Ollie’s face. He wanted to defend his friend, point out that nobody had seen through the disguise yet, but Batman wasn’t done. “This suit. Lightweight, flexible plastic that breathes like leather but is hard to pierce with bladed weapons and resists bullets up to a certain point. Developed by Queen Industries for almost twenty million dollars and is not in production. I know why, do you?” 

Ollie grew redder and didn’t respond. Batman stepped back and walked toward the hallway he had been in earlier. 

“The mower through the wall alerted security in the next building. The cops will be here in just over two minutes. I hope one of you brought your plans for containing Composite Superman.” Batman stopped walking to turn and glare at them. Clark knew they all looked embarrassed now and knew what was coming. “Or did none of you think that far ahead? Not one of you thought that a confinement method could also be used as a trap?” 

He studied each member of the JL like cattle at an auction before spoke again. “Tell the cops to start him on a low dose of tetraflorcazine. I’ll work up a sonic nullifier for the ‘Canary Cry’ and send it to them.” 

“What drug?” Clark asked. He would remember the name but had no idea what it was or did. “It won’t hurt him will it?” 

“Tetraflorcazine. Do I need to write you a prescription?” Clark felt the snarky tone was completely unnecessary. “Developed as an antipsychotic, it should help with his desire to kill you. A major side effect is numbing of the nerves, which should prevent him from speeding away. If he has any other abilities you want me to come up with countermeasures for, tell me now.” 

Nobody volunteered anything. Even Impulse recognized the danger of this man properly informed. 

“Fine.” Batman smirked at them. “And stay out of Gotham until you figure out what you’re doing. We’ll eat you alive.” 

Not they’ll eat you alive, implying criminals, but we’ll, implying Batman would taste of their flesh if they annoyed him. Batman tossed a grey object at Clark and they all watched it, just in case it exploded or found a new way to insult them. Clark caught the lead box and looked for Batman with x-ray. He was gone. Clark swallowed heavily before turning back to his teammates. They suddenly looked very young. 

“Ollie, why isn’t that armor in production?” Maybe it was the reporter in him, but Clark wanted to know. He had just thought it was leather. Oliver groaned before forcing himself to reply. 

“We can’t change the color without losing cohesion. Painting on it makes it highly flammable. I chose this color because it is the only color it comes in and still works. Very few people know about that, so I desperately want to know how Batman knows.” The league stared out the way Batman had gone until Clark found words to break the spell. 

“Guys, let’s just leave Gotham to him. At least for now.” Clark offered, having no desire to put up with much more of that attitude. Nods of agreement passed between them, until a cop on a bullhorn informed them they were surrounded. Startled, they prepared to meet the cops and pass on Batman’s method of confining Composite Superman. 

sB _Sb_ Bs

J’onn used his position at the police to confirm a sonic inhibitor built into a lockable collar was messengered to Cadmus. It was examined before it was applied to Composite. Detailed instructions were supplied for operation, repair and duplication. None of the components or papers were traceable or had any trace evidence on them. The forensics people were amazed. Clark was too, but he hid it better. 

He was still thinking about Batman when he returned to his room for the night. He felt Batman was skilled and determined; obviously it would take more than a glowing rock to stop him. Clark wasn’t conscious of why, but he picked up the lead box Batman had tossed back to him and opened it. Nothing happened. After staring into the empty box for a full minute, Clark was changing clothes and on his way to Gotham. 

Politeness was wasted on Gothamites apparently, so he just landed and flipped on the signal. As he waited he listened to the city around him. Anything life threatening and he would have left but for now he tried to catalogue the differences between Gotham and Metropolis. Maybe people in Metropolis were stupid, but Clark thought it was optimistic of them to go about their daily lives without fear. They were more careful at night but still used alleys as shortcuts. Here, people traveled in packs of three or more. These packs stayed under the streetlights, taking the long way around to avoid a darkened alley. Probably wise, as most of those alleys did seem to have someone lurking there. Clark couldn’t prove they were up to no good but he knew they were. A protector of this city would have to inhabit the shadows in order to do any good. 

“Learning anything?” Clark spun around to see Batman casually flicking the signal off. 

“Yes, I learned you stole my Kryptonite!” Clark used his surprise and anger to put a matching growl in his voice. 

“So it’s called Kryptonite and it hurts you. Good to know.” Clark snapped his jaw shut on a mouth deprived of words. He knew not to give this man any more information and he had just given him the most important he had. 

“Relax.” Batman growled at him, which made every muscle in his body tense. “I figured out you didn’t like it by the way you kept your distance yesterday. It’s just good to have a name to put on the label.” 

“There’s no point in wasting a label. You need to give it back, now.” Clark’s growl was starting to make his throat sore, but he had to get that rock back. 

“It’s safe, and I’ll only use it in an emergency.” Batman walked over to the wall and casually looked over his city. Infuriated, Clark speed over to grab his arm and force him to look at him. 

“You’re a thief. Give it back or I will have you arrested. Despite Gordon’s fondness, I’m sure the cops would love to get their hands on you.” Batman snorted his amusement and turned back to the city. Clark turned on his x-ray, desperate to get some sort of leverage over this man, and found his vision blocked. Clark dropped his hand and stepped back. Why did this guy have so much lead ready to use? “How did you know?” 

Batman tapped his blocked face for confirmation and Clark nodded numbly. “Lois Lane.” 

Clark could only gape, he had never told Lois that and she had never printed it. 

“You told her you couldn’t see through everything with your x-ray. The box you gave me yesterday was lead. It followed that if it protected you from the Kryptonite it also was a substance that blocked your vision. You should quit talking to Lane. You could tell her you like to eat three meals a day and she would publish it as front page news.” 

Batman casually stepped onto the ledge of the roof and Clark found his words. “How did you steal the Kryptonite if you didn’t have lead yesterday?” 

Batman considered him for a minute before shrugging. “Trade secret.” 

Fresh anger welled up in Clark. “Knowing might save my life someday!” 

“Then consider yourself motivated to learn. Or maybe you should just stay out of Gotham until you figure it out.” Clark opened his mouth and the roof door banged open. Gordon stopped in the doorway, eyeing the unexpected view before him. 

“I came to tell you the Joker just pulled a robbery in Metropolis, but I guess you know about that already.” Clark hadn’t known and turned to tell Batman to stay out of _his_ city just in time to see Batman jump off the roof. Clark instinctively flew after him, and had scooped him into his arms before it occurred to him that was probably how Batman traveled. Batman twisted in his arms so he could point a gloved finger into his face. 

“Drop me this instant or I will decide this is an emergency and use the Kryptonite.” 

Clark knew he wasn’t perfect, knew failing at this hero gig could get somebody killed, but this guy pushed buttons Clark didn’t know he had. It was time Batman learned manners (and respect). Clark headed for Metropolis at top speed, holding the man like he smelled as bad as his attitude. He hoped the precarious nature of the position would make Batman understand who was in charge right now, but he kept his voice pleasant. 

“You are going after the Joker anyway; I’m just giving you a ride.” 

“I have a plane.” This growl promised unending pain, so Clark forced a smile. 

“Carpooling is better for the environment. Besides, we are more than half way there now and time is of the essence when tracking a criminal.” 

“Fine. You can be in charge of all my transportation needs in Metropolis.” 

Clark tried not to groan out loud when he realized what he had just done. He couldn’t strand Batman in Metropolis, so he would have to fly him back to Gotham tonight. And tracking down the crazed clown with an armful of pissed Batman didn’t sound like fun. On the outskirts of Metropolis, Clark’s phone started vibrating. Clark put Batman on his left side and held him with an arm around his waist while he pulled out the phone. He was so happy to see it was Ollie calling he had to fight the relief out of his voice. Maybe they could get Ollie’s jet to drop Batman home (parachute optional). 

“The Joker is here! I’m following him but I need help.” 

“Keep up with him; I’m coming your way now.” Absently tucking the phone back into his belt, Clark listened for Ollie and almost missed Batman’s frown. There was exasperation in his snappy retort to that frown. “What now?” 

“Uncoded communication via cell phones. A four year old with an x-box can hack a cell.” 

“You give four year olds x-boxes? You must be rich!” Clark surprised himself with that comment, embarrassment usually made him mute. A squeal of tires brought their attention to their newly acquired target. The Joker was leaning out of the passenger side, taking potshots at the cop cars behind them. “Who’s driving?” 

Clark asked before he considered who he was asking, using his x-ray would probably have been quicker than getting information out of Batman. So he was really surprised when Batman did answer, his voice showing his focus was not on his words. 

“Joker’s shrink.”

“Doesn’t drive like a hostage.” Clark mused, watching the car speed up and take aim at a stray cat. 

“Fresh out of school, they assigned her the Joker. Six months later, she busts him out, killing three people. Get over the Joker’s car.” The last sentence was a command that Clark obeyed. “When I say so, drop me.” 

“What?” Clark shot back. 

“Now.” 

Clark had no idea why, but he complied. Batman dropped like a stone, crumpling the roof of the car. Facing the back, he crouched down and let his cape cover the windshield. A girly screech reached Clark’s ears. 

“I can’t see, Mr. J!” 

The car veered to the right and slid off an overpass as Batman jumped free. Clark caught him in time to watch the car roll across an empty road. This new road was not complete and budget problems had stopped construction, so no workers were present. Had Batman known all that or simple seen an empty road and hoped it stayed empty? Against his will, Clark was impressed, and glad Batman only had eyes for the crash site. 

They landed, to pull Joker and his shrink from the car and Batman produced plastic zip tie handcuffs. Clark didn’t dare say it out loud, but that was way better than having to tie them up with anything handy, like street signs. The Joker was staring at Batman with a hurt expression. 

“How am I supposed to bankroll your execution if you stop me from robbing people?” 

Batman ignored him and turned to Clark. “Call Green Arrow. Have him make sure these two get to jail. Then I need shuttle service back to Gotham.” 

Clark ground his teeth but followed instructions. By the time he got off the phone with Ollie, the cops had found their way down. Clark gave his statement, told the paramedics that neither individual had any broken bones and then had to find Batman with his x-ray. The cops were oblivious to the vigilante’s presence, in a shadowy spot behind a concrete wall. Clark walked to Batman but before he could find anything to say, Batman stepped on his left foot and put his arm around Clark’s shoulders. For a millisecond, Clark thought it was a hug but Batman growling in his ear put a stop to that thought. 

“Gotham.” 

Clark lifted off obediently, but tried to make small talk as he went. Silence had its place and he could enjoy a little quiet time, but he felt a need to fill that silence around Batman. “It’s weird flying vertically with a passenger. I haven’t tried this before but I’m sure horizontally is quicker. You could get on my back instead of riding in my arms.” 

A growl on his left told him this mode of transportation was the best idea. 

“Fine, but when we get back can you at least return my Kryptonite? You don’t have to take me to your, I don’t know, apartment? Cave? Bats sleep in caves, right? We could just meet on the roof of police headquarters so you could give it back.” 

“No.” Was growled into his ear. 

“Unbelievable!” Clark shouted back, before spending the remaining two minutes of the flight in a thinking silence. About five miles outside Gotham, Clark changed directions and started circling the city. He felt Batman’s glare behind the lenses and relished it. Nice to know that he could get to Batman, just like Batman seemed to get to him. “So, Batman, if you could just see your way to promising to return the rock, I would believe you. We set a meet and I drop you anywhere you want.” 

“Here’s fine.” Batman growled before pushing away from Clark and dropping into the woods below them. 

A startled Clark was just far enough behind that it took him a minute to find Batman, perched in a tree. He had an electronic device in his hand unlike anything Clark had seen before. It was bigger than a PDA but smaller than a Kindle. The touch screen worked with Batman’s huge gloves and Clark had no idea which pouch it had come from. Forcing himself to dismiss the gadget, Clark drifted closer to confront Batman again. 

“If you don’t voluntarily give back my Kryptonite, I will have to take it from you.” Clark put all his anger and irritation into his voice. 

“Really?” Batman asked in what Clark was coming to recognize as his conversational tone. It was still threatening and condescending. “Have you seen the newest phone app?” 

Batman flipped the device so Clark could see the screen, and Clark couldn’t help but to look. Pain sliced through his eyes and he saw only white. He started thrashing around, grasping for something solid in his sudden blindness. What he got was Batman’s most condescending tone yet. 

“Let gravity pull you to the ground.” Clark blushed as he followed the order. “The effect should be temporary and disrupt your x-ray longer than your normal vision. While you are waiting for your vision to clear, I suggest you think up reasons to visit my city. I trust you won’t find many.” 

Clark heard Batman leave over the leaf covered forest floor and knew only his super-hearing gave him that opportunity. He didn’t want to be alone, in a weird place and blind, but it was better than asking Batman to take pity on him. About ten minutes later an approaching car pulled to the side of the road. A car door closed and Batman was no longer walking as the car moved off. There was no talking inside the car and soon it merged with other cars that blocked its sound. Clark sat on the ground and waited out his blindness. When his phone vibrated, he managed to answer it by feeling and memory. 

“Hello?” 

“Joker made it to jail, they are already arguing about who gets him. Gotham is very willing to let him serve his sentence in Metropolis before returning to Gotham, despite the law books saying it goes the other way first.” With the Joker captured, Ollie could afford to be amused by the situation. ”Are you still with Bats?” 

“No, he went back to his city. And Ollie?” 

“Yeah, Clark?” 

“I think we should keep an eye on Gotham from the safe distance of Metropolis.” 

“Clark, you sound weird. What did Batman do now?” 

Clark couldn’t help a heavy sigh. “I don’t know, but it’s wearing off. I can see shadows now instead of just a field of white.” 

“Are you saying Bats found a way to blind you? How? Why?” 

Another sigh. Clark didn’t have anything better to do while he waited on his vision, so he might as well tell Ollie. He gave a little shrug and started his story. 

sB _Sb_ Bs

Clark adjusted the choking bowtie on his neck and glared at Ollie. “I don’t know how you managed to talk me into this.” 

Ollie rolled his eyes and explained yet again. “A. After last week’s meeting in Gotham, you need a night off. B. If the people in this room like you, they will be interviewed by you. C. Your career will skyrocket and Lois will be so jealous she will consider dating you again. D. This is a Wayne party. Once the old fogies fall asleep, everybody gets drunk, naked and wild.” 

“You didn’t mention drunk, naked and wild before!” 

Ollie shrugged. “You would have found an excuse not to come, and see reasons a, b and c.” 

“I don’t know how this is supposed to relax me, you’re the only one here I recognize.” 

Ollie winked at him. “That can prove a lot of fun if you think about it.” 

Clark rolled his eyes and when they came to rest he noticed a change in the party. It was noisier, but everybody seemed to be focused on the door. The crowd slowly parted to let three people by. The beautiful woman and lanky man bracketed a man they seemed awed by. He had an arm draped over their shoulders and was talking earnestly to them, oblivious to the rest of the party. He was tall but hunched, impeccably dressed but stumbling around like a common drunk. The man and woman didn’t look up to the job of supporting his large body, but he clearly wasn’t capable of walking unassisted. With his head angled and moving, Clark couldn’t see his face so he turned to Ollie. 

“Who is that?” 

Ollie wrenched his eyes away from the girl he was trying to make eye contact with to see who Clark was talking about. “Wayne, the world’s biggest paperweight.” 

“What?” Clark asked. Oliver normally saved that much distaste for criminals. Ollie was already back on his target for the night as he responded. 

“Big, heavy, hollow, expensive and not good for much.” 

“But Wayne Enterprise stock had gone up since he reappeared.” Clark wasn’t an expert on economics but he understood enough to know when a company was doing well. 

“Luck, and the ability to let other people run his company.” 

Wayne chose that moment to look up, startling blue eyes sweeping the guests. They took in Ollie and moved on to Clark, where they stopped. Just before Clark could get uncomfortable, Wayne turned to talk to his companions again. A moment later, he was alone and moving toward Ollie, with only a slight drunken weave. 

“Oliver Queen!” Wayne called and Ollie turned to meet him with a pained grin on his face. “Been a long time since you made one of my parties. What brings you to Gotham today?” 

Ollie politely shook the proffered hand but could barely contain the irritation in his voice. “We’re in Metropolis, Brucie, celebrating Wayne Enterprises takeover of a business here.” 

“Really?” Bruce looked out the window for confirmation of this startling idea. “That would explain the plane ride. So who’s your date?” 

Vacant blue eyes latched onto Clark, who was never gladder of assistance than when Ollie spoke. “He’s just a friend, he’s very straight.” 

“What a waste of material!” Bruce replied with a lecherous look that made Clark blush. 

“He’s a reporter, Brucie, so don’t get any ideas you don’t want published.” 

“Indoor sports reporter, maybe?” The way Bruce licked his lips as he said it robbed the question of any innocence and turned up the heat in Clark’s face by several degrees. 

“Features, Brucie. He writes features for the Daily Planet. This is Clark Kent.” 

Clark automatically shook the hand that came his way but thought Wayne was really dragging a handshake out. Did Wayne’s thumb have a nerve disorder that made it move around like that? A girl detached from the crowd and snuggled up to Bruce before he finally let go of Clark’s hand. 

“Come on, Brucie!” Clark knew she had to practice that empty, bubble headed voice that purred into Bruce’s ear. “Come dance with us!” 

Bruce gave Clark a lopsided grin before turning to Ollie. “Duty calls! Let me know if you ever want to get together.” 

A bawdy wink and Wayne was gone. Clark could feel the confusion, surprise and embarrassment on his face as he turned to Ollie. 

“Yeah.” Ollie said after glancing at Clark’s face. “Brucie does that to people. It’s his only real skill. The only bad part of a Wayne party is you might run into him.” 

“I’ve read a lot about him but nobody ever said he was, um, into guys.” 

“Not to sound like Lois, but you’ve got a lot to learn, Smallville.” Ollie shrugged off the look Clark gave him for that little comment. “Bruce is just interested in new places to put his anatomy. He doesn’t care who, what, or where. But I care, so I am going over there to talk to the girl in the green dress. You know how I like green. So mingle or get some food.” 

A friendly pat on the shoulder and Clark was alone. Clark waited for the blush to fade from his face before heading for the line of tables. He hadn’t put much more than then a few pieces of fruit on his plate when a hand grabbed something at the edge of his vision. He didn’t think much of it until a now known voice exclaimed in disgust. He turned to see Wayne staring at the mush in his napkin, in his hand. He saw Clark looking and turned to say. 

“This sushi is totally raw!” 

Clark couldn’t find any signs of humor or deception in Wayne’s amazement. Clark was saved having to come up with a response by a waiter who stopped behind them. 

“Mr. Wayne, I have a gun pointed at you.” 

Clark’s x-ray confirmed the gun under the white towel he carried. Wayne just looked annoyed as he dropped his (raw!) sushi mush and turned around. 

“I don’t like guns.” His voice was serious and calm, confusing Clark. Did people point guns at Wayne so regularly that he didn’t even get nervous anymore? 

The waiter/thug glanced between them. “Don’t get any ideas. I’m not alone and there are a lot of innocent people here.” 

Wayne nodded and grinned as he looked around. “Yeah, it is a good turn out.” 

The thug/waiter cast a confused look at Clark. Clark almost shrugged back his sympathy. Like Ollie said, Wayne did that to people. 

“Keep your hands at your sides and go to the elevator.” Wayne put his hands in his pockets and moseyed that way. Clark followed and tried not to look amazed. Apparently people kidnapped Wayne on a regular basis. He was shaking hands and talking to people as he passed and nothing he said could have been interpreted as a plea for help. 

A second waiter jumped on the elevator with them and produced two pairs of handcuffs. Wayne hummed along with the elevator music as the handcuffs clicked into place. The thugs exchanged disbelieving stares. A chauffeur opened the door of a limo as they approached the curb but he jerked his head at Clark before letting them in. The original thug/waiter replied to the unasked question. 

“I don’t know who he is; he was just there when I went for Wayne. These rich jerks travel in packs. This was the best opportunity I was going to get.” 

The chauffeur growled but shoved Clark into the limo anyway. Clark fought his way into a normal sitting position with his hands behind his back. Wayne was practically shoved on top of him, but righted himself without the trouble Clark had endured. The door closed and Clark used his x-ray to see that the locks on the doors were not accessible from the backseat. All three thugs sat in the front as the limo pulled away. Clark turned to Wayne with normal vision and saw him digging through a concealed wet bar. He sat back and cracked the seal on a bottle of water before he remembered Clark. 

“There’s juice and liquor if you don’t want water.” 

“But, but…” Clark realized he was impersonating a motor boat and forced himself to stop and think before speaking. “The handcuffs, Mr. Wayne.” 

Bruce shrugged as he swallowed from his water bottle. “He didn’t close them properly or something. You’ll just have to break out of yours in your own way. Do you know where we are? It’s your city after all.” 

Clark had to think to form words, but for a different reason this time. Why did Wayne think he could read passing street signs? “These windows are really heavily tinted; I don’t think anybody could see out of them.” 

Wayne studied him with a funny look for a moment before putting a seductive smile on his lips. “When I imagined you in the backseat of a limo, you weren’t there against your will.” 

Clark blushed again, confused that Wayne could be coming on to him now. “Mr. Wayne, I’m not interested. I’m straight.” 

It hadn’t worked when Ollie said it but it was the only thing Clark could think of to say. He tried to avoid the ‘talking to a two year old’ voice Ollie had used, but still sound earnest. Wayne dismissed this argument with a wave of his handcuff free hand. 

“Please. We’re hardwired to search for pleasure; only societal conventions keep us from taking it wherever we can.” Clark couldn’t even disagree; he was too amazed at the big words coming from Brucie. “We’re all bi. But like most things in life, it’s a matter of getting people to admit it.” 

Clark was suddenly aware that he was sitting in the middle of the limo seat, and he had no idea why he hadn’t moved over before now. Now he was acutely aware that the side of Wayne’s tailor made tux was pressed up against Clark’s off the rack suit. Wayne seemed rather muscular for a useless playboy, Clark thought then had to wonder where that thought came from. Heat poured into his face and he tried again before he got any more embarrassed. “Really, Mr. Wayne. I’m not interested.” 

“Oh?” Wayne said in a suddenly husky voice. “You doubt I could wrinkle your shirt and straighten your…” Bruce bit his lower lip and looked at Clark’s lap before finishing his sentence. “Trousers, if I wanted to?” 

Clark’s suddenly desert dry mouth was incapable of uttering a sound, which Bruce took to be a challenge. He pulled their mouths together with his left hand, sliding a little into Clark’s lap. Brucie’s mouth was cool and moist after his water, no taste of the alcohol that made him walk funny. His right hand was busy, and Clark knew he should find a way to stop that hand before it found his uniform. The uniform Ollie had told him not to wear but he felt naked without it anymore. Wayne chose that moment to put his tongue into Clark’s mouth and drive all thought from Clark’s brain. 

When Wayne finally pulled back, he locked eyes with Clark and stroked the first finger of his right hand across Clark’s half hard cock. Clark jerked away from that touch and that proof, flailing his way to the other side of the limo. Clark concentrated on not breaking the headrest under his right hand as he regained control of his body. Wayne finished his water, dropped the empty bottle in the floor and straightened his tux. Clark’s breathing was almost under control when Wayne turned to him and spoke in the voice that had declared everyone was bisexual. 

“Some people admit who and what they are easier than others. Don’t you think, Superman?” Clark stopped breathing altogether as he tried to work that out. 

“I’m Clark Kent, I report on Superman.” Wayne stared pointedly at the handcuff chain dangling from his right wrist. Apparently he had broken them as he scrambled away from Wayne’s roaming hands. Wayne was now frowning at the front of the limo and Clark really wanted to see what was in those eyes right now. 

“We’ve pulled into a building. How many in the building and how many are armed?” The curious voice held an edge that Clark couldn’t reconcile with Brucie. Having no idea what else to do, Clark x-rayed his surroundings. 

“Warehouse, five total, all armed with semi-automatics.” The engine shut off and a second later a guy in street clothes opened the door. Poking his head in he frowned down at Bruce’s hands, folded in his lap. 

“Why ain’t you handcuffed?” 

“Nose itched.” Bruce shrugged before slamming the thug into the car roof hard enough to leave a dent. Bruce launched himself over the fallen body and into the confused guy holding the door open. A startled Clark followed a second later. His two thugs were tossed in a pile with Bruce’s three as Bruce pulled out his cell phone. Clark wanted to ask why Bruce didn’t use it as soon as he got out of the cuffs but Wayne was already speaking. “Yes, hi, this is Bruce Wayne. I guess I need some cops and ambulances for uh, five guys.” 

He listened for a second. “The nature of the emergency?” Well, I don’t guess it’s an emergency any longer. I was kidnapped but Superman saved me!” 

Clark reviewed the image of Wayne launching himself at that second thug. He knew Wayne could have taken on five armed guys without help. It was weird to feel superfluous at a crime scene. Still, it made a kind of sense that a rich man would know how to take care of himself, for situations like these. Both Lex and Ollie could, but they were so much smarter than Brucie. 

“No, I don’t know where I am. Let me find a window and look for a street sign.” Wayne looked at Clark, who looked outside. 

“1324 Laird St. By the docks.” Wayne repeated his words into the phone. 

“Hold? Oh, ok.” He looked at Clark again, vacant and clueless. “Didn’t think you wanted your real name dragged into this, Corky Gent, right? So you can go back to the party or whatever. Let me know what I missed!” 

Clark licked his lips as Bruce started humming (off key) to the hold music. “That’s very considerate, Mr. Wayne. You have a nice night.” 

Clark finished lamely but Bruce hardly noticed as he started conducting the music with his free hand. Clark left at his top speed, tossing the handcuff remains in a dumpster on his way back to the party. He found an unoccupied balcony to land on and sought out Ollie. Green dress girl was gone, so Ollie was picking over the food. The same food tables Clark had been at a half an hour ago, before his world imploded. It was hard to not use his powers to grab Ollie and haul him back to the empty balcony, but they got there eventually. 

“Is Wayne gonna turn me in?” Ollie’s confused face held no answers, so Clark forced himself to calm down and rephrase. “Wayne knows I’m Superman. Is he going to tell anybody?” 

“Years ago, no. Lately, maybe. I don’t know.” Ollie sensed the urgency and responded to question as best as he could. “How did that idiot find out in one night?” 

Clark rolled his eyes. “We got kidnapped from the buffet table.” 

Ollie gave a snort of disbelieving laughter, before waiting for Clark to go on. 

“Waiter with a gun threatened to shoot innocents if we didn’t cooperate, so we went with him. In the limo, Wayne startled me and I broke my handcuffs. Limo pulled into warehouse, Wayne took out three, I got two, and Wayne called the cops. Told me to leave so cops wouldn’t know I was connected with Superman.” 

Ollie looked at him with a strange intensity. “How did Wayne take out three thugs while you only got two, and how did he startle you into breaking handcuffs?” 

“I don’t know, and it’s not important.” Clark almost got through it, but he forgot to control his blazing red blush. After a response like that, he figured he had better tell Ollie something before his imagination got out of control. “Fine. In the back of the limo, he came on to me again. I told him I wasn’t interested and he kissed me to prove I was. While backing away I forgot about and then broke the cuffs. Is he going to tell?” 

“I don’t know for sure, Clark. I’m tempted to say something flippant, like he would if he thought it would get him laid. Bruce was a totally different person when we were at school together.” Ollie leaned back against the wall with a thoughtful frown. 

“Isn’t he three or four years younger than you?” Clark frowned back at his friend. 

“Sure, but…” Ollie shrugged and seemed to change what he was about to say. “You remember about his parents don’t you?” 

“Even in Smallville, that was memorable news. I even remember the picture that went with the article.” 

Ollie sighed. “They put that picture in every paper in the world. The guy who took it even won some kind of award for it. I also heard Brucie bought the rights to that picture so they would quit running it, but that could just be a rumor. Anyway, the Bruce in that picture is the one I went to school with at Excelsior. Intense, dark, wrapped up in his own little world but those eyes saw far too much. His money and brains got him moved up three grades. He was quiet and always studying or reading something. He was on the fencing team and took karate classes, but thought team sports were stupid. He wasn’t scrawny, just younger and smaller than everybody else, which is what caused the incident.” 

Ollie paused to figure out how to discuss what was coming next in his little story. “People dump their kids in private school when they get kicked out of regular school. For all Excelsior’s talk about standards, if you could afford it you could get in. Four of those rejects cornered Bruce coming out of the library one night. Tried to force him to his knees, and even now you can’t force Brucie to do anything. They were taken into the city for proper hospitalization; he went to the infirmary for bloody knuckles. 

Rumors abounded about who was expelled for what, but all five people left within a week. Bruce got an early admittance to college a few years later but disappeared before he could graduate. When he came back, he was the idiot you met tonight. I’ve thought before that college gave him a nervous breakdown and his mysterious legal guardian shipped him to a private hospital in Switzerland or something. Overdosing on electroshock therapy might have resulted in the changes I’ve observed.” 

Clark stared into the street below as he thought about what Ollie had just told him. “You don’t think he might be acting stupid for some reason?” 

“I wish, but I find massive brain damage more believable.” 

Clark sighed heavily. “Well Ollie, I would like to thank you for a nice, relaxing evening. I think I’ll go home and try to figure out what to do when the brain damaged, big mouth who knows my secret tells all my enemies my home address.” 

“I’m sorry, Clark.” Ollie sounded truly regretful, so Clark gave him a forgiving shrug before lifting off. Once home, he ate and showered so he could lie in bed and stare at the ceiling for four hours. He finally managed to sleep, only to find blue eyes and wondering hands waiting for him. 

sB _Sb_ Bs


	2. Insert Snark Here

When Clark emerged from the dreams he refused to allow into his waking mind, he found it was two hours after sunrise. Still, it was Saturday, so he had all day to do whatever needed to be done. He thought about trying to talk to Lois, only to remember she was on assignment in Winnipeg. Maybe Ollie could get him a date for tonight, as Clark obviously needed to get out more. Crazy dreams about blue eyes and hands without bodies suggested he might also need to get laid, as much as he hated to think about it like that. Clark got up and stretched until his phone rang. If he was a normal guy, he’d still be asleep on his day off. So he waited until the fourth ring to answer in a sleepy voice. “Hello?”

“Bruce Wayne was kidnapped from his party last night and saved by Superman!” Clark managed not to groan into his phone. The weekend editor was very excitable and loud. He really hoped they didn’t move Mr. White to weekdays like they were talking about. “They insisted he go to a hospital before taking him to the police station to file his report. My sources say he will be leaving the station in twenty minutes. Get over there and get an interview!” 

The line went dead before Clark could start to protest it was his day off. A quick change and he was at the police station in time to see Bruce coming out the main door. Wayne waved and joked with the reporters crowded on the steps. Clark merged into the crowd and tried not to get noticed by Wayne. Naturally, this backfired and Bruce honed in on him like a guided missile. 

“Sparky! Did you have fun after I left the party? Ride with me and tell me all about it!” 

A friendly but firm hand on his bicep pulled him toward the waiting limo. Clark made sure he sat as far away from Bruce as he could. “Have the driver take us to the _Daily Prophet_ , please.” 

The elderly man holding the door was completely unruffled by Brucie’s request to be taken to a fictional, magical newspaper on the other side of an ocean. “The _Daily Planet_ , yes Sir.” 

Clark was really glad the man understood Brucie speak, which saved him from politely correcting a man he was trying to get an interview out of. Bruce oozed across the entire available seat and focused those ridiculously blue eyes on Clark. “Lark, that’s a good name for a man who can fly.” 

Clark heard a soft whimper escape his throat and prayed Wayne hadn’t heard it. “Mr. Wayne, are you going to tell anybody that I am Superman?” 

“Do you think I should?” Every bit of knowledge Clark held about human emotions said the question was genuine and he had to repress a shudder. 

“No! I don’t want you to tell anybody. I want to keep it a secret, Mr. Wayne.” It was so hard not to sound like he was talking to a baby. 

A dismissive hand gesture had Clark even more worried. “Please, I insist all people I get kidnapped with call me Brucie.” 

“Ok, Brucie.” Clark thought, what grown man goes around asking people to call him Brucie? **Brucie, the name that lowers your IQ two points for saying it.** “Are you going to tell anybody that I am Superman?” 

“So you do think I should!” 

Clark buried his face in his hands and put his elbows on his knees. His naughty, sleep deprived mind offered him the image of condescending Batman trying to get information out of dumb as stone Brucie. He would pay to see that. Buoyed by this image, he risked a glance at Bruce through his fingers. There was a thought running behind his eyes. Clark lifted his head up and the vacancy was back. He knew he would regret it, but he had to ask. 

“Brucie, what were you thinking about a second ago?” He got a slow, seductive grin for his trouble. 

“I was thinking about a way to wake up that works better than a gallon of cappuccino.” 

Clark reflected on what he had seen from between his fingers. “No you weren’t.” 

Bruce was sliding toward him, like he was floating over those hand tooled leather seats. “I didn’t know you could read minds!” 

Clark tried to back up, only to realize he was already up against the door. “I can’t read minds, I know a guy who can, it’s just that your expression didn’t match that kind of thought.” 

“Really? I’ve never had sex with a mind reader, I bet that’s fun! Would your friend be interested…” 

“No!” Clark sputtered out before Brucie could finish the question. **Exposing a mind reader like J’onn to a mindless moron like Bruice would probably finish off the Martian race once and for all**. “Could you just tell me what you were thinking about?” 

Brucie had a leg over Clark’s, and his hands were working on Clark’s tie. “I’m tired, so I might be just a little out of it. But even as tired as I am, I’m still ready to pick up where we left off last night.” 

Clark gasped for words as Brucie’s face came closer, until it dipped to the side and started nibbling on Clark’s neck. Clark realized his hands were moving toward Bruce’s back and he had to force them back to his sides. It was hard work, a thought that made him remember why he was on those steps in front of the courthouse. “The article! I need a quote for the article on your kidnapping.” 

Brucie didn’t stop what he was doing to talk, but Clark heard every word as well as the other sounds Brucie made. And Brucie was making all the noise, Clark was in no way contributing tiny moans as Brucie gradually increased the strength of his bites on Clark’s neck. 

“Well, I was at a party so I might have been a little drunk, everything was blurry. So this waiter escorts me to the elevator, his face is kind of blurry in my mind. So we get into this second hand limo, obviously they needed the ransom money if that was the best limo they could get. So when I go to get out of the car, I trip over this blur under my feet, which turns out to be a guy. Everywhere I look I see blurry movement, until the blurring stops and drops a man at my feet. He was red and blue and handsome, the blur, not the guy he dropped at my feet. Another blur, and the blur is totally gone. I’m still kind of blurry, but that’s what I remember.” 

Brucie’s words were not the slightest bit interesting and it hurt Clark’s brain to focus on them instead of the other things his mouth was doing. “Do you really want to use the word blur that many times in a quote?” 

Brucie pulled back to look confusion into Clark’s face. “You’re the writer, you punch it up.” 

This time, when Brucie closed in for a kiss, he actually landed on Clark’s lips. Clark’s pants were undone and a large hand that wasn’t his own was holding him inside those opened pants. The hand was cooler than his, and he worked his control to keep himself from responding. He started trying to force his mouth and tongue to stop actively participating, when the car stopped. Brucie sighed into his mouth and flopped back into the seat. 

“Well, sleep would probably help my performance anyway. Call me when you’re horny.” The leer that accompanied these words was lost in the sunshine pouring into the car when the elderly gentleman opened the door. 

“The _Daily Planet_ , sirs.” 

“Thank you!” Clark wasn’t sure who he was thanking, kind gods or the gentleman, but he escaped while the getting was good. Halfway up the stairs he turned to see the elderly gentleman get into the back of the limo. He listened in as it pulled off. 

“Master Bruce, I feel I must protest how you are treating that young man.” Why was whoever that was sticking up for him? Why did he get into the backseat instead of returning to the front? “His face shows he was highly agitated when he escaped your clutches.” 

Brucie snorted lightly. “Alfred, would you prefer I use my other methods for getting to know somebody?” 

Alfred, apparently, sighed before responding. “I feel he would at least know how to respond to those methods.” 

“Which is exactly why I can’t use them.” 

“Perhaps, Sir. But I would still suggest you to tread lightly.” 

Alfred’s tone made it sound like this was more serious than a case of unwanted seduction, but Clark was more interested in who Alfred was that Brucie actually seemed to listen to him. The voice Brucie talked to Alfred with wasn’t as high pitched or emotional as Brucie’s voice normally was. The beeping of electronic devices in the car told Clark that Brucie was playing with his phone so he quit listening and sat on the steps. He lost track of how long he sat there trying not to think of what Brucie was doing to him, until a yelling voice brought him back to reality. 

“Why are you sitting on the steps? Shouldn’t you be inside writing up your interview with Wayne about the kidnapping?” 

Clark muttered apologies to Mr. White as he stood up. Only the super speed of his hands kept his pants from falling down to his ankles; his clothes were still disarrayed from Brucie’s advances. People he passed openly snickered at his appearance, so he ducked into the first men’s bathroom he came to. His face was cardinal red when he saw it in the bathroom mirror as he redressed. He was going to have to avoid Wayne at all cost. If Wayne ever got into trouble again, he was _so_ sending Batman to deal with it. 

sB _Sb_ Bs

Clark finished his article on Brucie’s kidnapping and should have left for the day, but no emergencies called to him yet. So he used the paper’s resources to find information on Brucie. All recent articles were useless; they only talked about who he was dating. When he had reappeared, articles had been rife with speculation about his disappearance but no facts. In interviews he would give a mysterious grin and a vague statement about traveling with friends. No names of those friends or where they went. He said he had to reapply for a passport, as his was lost, someplace with nude beaches and funny trees with all the leaves on top. No one ever got a satisfactory answer about how he got back into the country without proper identification. 

Going back to the death of his parents held only answers about them and sad words for the little boy with penetrating eyes. It was almost dark by the time Clark found the court records that gave custody of Bruce to the family butler, Alfred Pennyworth. There was not supporting documentation that said why Alfred got Bruce, no will, no social services visits, nothing. Clark hated it, but he considered maybe Alfred had done something to Bruce so he could keep control of the money after Bruce turned twenty one. Maybe it was just because Alfred stuck up for him, but he couldn’t imagine that gentle looking man doing anything to hurt Bruce. An alarm rang in the distance and Clark was so glad to hear it he grinned as he went out to stop a robbery. Getting shot was a lot less painful than trying to figure Brucie out. 

Hours later, when the city quieted down for the night, Clark showered and ate most everything in his apartment. Tired and content, he fell into bed only to remember the feel of Brucie’s hand down his pants. He groaned as he fought down his arousal. Sex hadn’t dominated his mind like this since he hit puberty the same summer that Lana took to wearing white tank tops. With the sun behind her you could see the lace of her bra without enhanced vision. At least then he had some idea of what to do with their bodies given half a chance. If Bruce was to walk in his door tonight, he would have no idea what to do. 

The only idea he had, seemed like it would really hurt, even if he was invulnerable. That couldn’t be how gay guys did it, but the only one he knew well enough to ask was Brucie. And he would never ask, because Brucie would insist on **and probably manage to give** a demonstration. Clark didn’t want to know that badly. Besides, he hated Brucie. The guy was annoying, shallow, insincere, and stupid. He had motives for coming on to Clark and his butler was worried about those motives. Except, he couldn’t be brain damaged and still have ulterior motives, could he? 

**Brucie is a Gothamite and therefore Batman’s problem**. The thought appeared unbidden in his mind, but Clark still clung to it like a mantra. Repeated it until he was a touch calmer. Except then his brain decided it wanted to talk about Batman. If he was going to fall for a guy, it could at least have been a guy like that. Determined, smart, graceful, and with that sexy little growl. Of course, coming on to Batman would be a good way to get his Kryptonite back; Batman would shove it so far down Clark’s throat he’d need specialized equipment to get it out. Batman obviously hated him, just as much as Brucie wanted to get in his pants. 

Batman would kill him if he did anything stupid. Brucie would let Clark do anything he wanted to him and Clark could see him now. On his hands and knees, smooth skin that never experienced a hard day’s work. He would look over his shoulder at Clark, suggestive smile and lust filled eyes, and Clark’s dream-self did the only thing he could think of to do. He parted Brucie’s ass cheeks and pushed in. Brucie expressed his pleasure loudly, telling Clark it didn’t hurt like he thought it would. 

This arousal couldn’t be killed, so Clark reached into his boxers and fisted himself. Not knowing how it would feel to be inside a man this way, Clark focused on Brucie’s imagined responses. Would he thrust against or with Clark? Would his decorative muscles be able to support him the entire time Clark pounded into him or would he collapse and change the angle of his ass? How would Brucie compare Clark to the other lovers he’d had? 

Clark knew he was close to completion when his little fantasy was interrupted. A black glove was laid on his arm and Clark followed it to the fully armored Batman behind him. He looked down in shame and noticed Batman’s pants seemed to be missing the codpiece. Batman was really large when fully erect like that, Clark thought before his imaginary Batman shoved him on top of Brucie. Then Batman was shoving into Clark and before Clark could decide if it hurt or not, he was coming all over his bed. 

Clark waited until his breathing returned to normal to clean up and change his sheets. He was still dazed when he got back into bed. What had he just done? He couldn’t believe he had just masturbated to the image of the two most annoying men on the planet taking him. Dazed gave way to sleep before he could quite comprehend it, but his vivid dreams relished it. 

The dreams and the dawn light had Clark fully erect when he woke the next morning, but he refused to do anything about it while thinking of _them_. Lois had been the best lover he had ever had, so he brought up memories of their brief time together. When he realized it wasn’t working, he tried to imagine what he would do if both Lois and Lana were there. Almost, but something was still missing. For whatever reason, his imagined self was turning away from the ladies he loved. 

There was panic in his stomach as he waited to see where his imagination was taking him. Naked Brucie and codpiece free Batman perched on his headboard, with identical condescending smiles. Clark tried to force the images away, stopped touching himself while he brought the girls back. Batman snorted at his efforts, but Brucie leaned over and took Batman’s cock in his mouth. That was all Clark needed to find release. 

Disgusted with himself for his choice of partners, Clark cleaned up and washed the two sets of dirty sheets. It was early and nothing was going on this Sunday morning, so Clark flew to the farm. A quiet day of hard work and parental love would drive the bizarre images away. It should have worked, but every time he went into the barn he expected Batman to drop out of the rafters and take him. The clucking of chickens reminded him of the empty headed chatter of Brucie **and his overuse of the word blur**. A glance at a newly plowed field had him remembering pulling apart Brucie and entering him. 

After supper, Clark said his goodbyes only to have both parents remark on how quiet he had been today. He hugged them both and convinced them that a good night’s sleep was all he needed, that’s why he was leaving early. They believed him and watched as he flew off into the night. He looked back in time to see them wrap arms around each other’s waists and head inside. The loneliness this simple touch caused him to feel kept his dreams free of Batman and Brucie. In fact, his dreams were completely free of any other living soul. An hour before dawn and he couldn’t take anymore of flying over a deserted planet, so he woke up. He plopped on the couch to watch the news until it was time to go to work, only to find Gotham on his screen. 

“Reports are still coming in, but once again Gotham City is the scene of terror in the night. A hundred armed men barricaded themselves in Gotham’s biggest electric plant and shut off the power. They ransomed the city’s power for fifty billion dollars and a getaway plane. Riots and fires across the city may have been planned by the criminal behind this, a man identified as ‘Black Mask.’ These secondary incidents overwhelmed Gotham’s emergency response teams, so a proper attack on the electric plant could not be put into place. No official statement has been release on how the police broke the barricade. Unofficial statements do not agree if there was or was not any participation by the vigilante known as Batman. This urban legend has been…” 

Clark shut off the perky reporter and changed. He wasn’t sure why he was going to Gotham until he got there and started x-raying buildings for a face he couldn’t see. He helped put out a couple of fires and pulled a man and his dog from a wrecked car before he found a figure huddled in the corner of a building’s roof. Clark scanned Batman before landing on the roof. He was asleep, exhausted and dehydrated. He wasn’t bleeding any longer, but the large gash on his right side still needed tending to. He was sitting with his knees up to his chest, arms wrapped around his knees and head in his arms. The left ear of the cowl was gone, wires poking out of the hole. 

The anger and embarrassment he had previously felt around Batman wouldn’t come to Clark now. Batman was human, vulnerable and yet ready to give everything for a city full of people who didn’t even believe in him. Clark wanted to know this man, would have been honored to call him a friend. But Batman hated him, so he sighed as he crouched down to touch Batman on the shoulder. His super-speed and instinct kept Batman from ripping his uniform. 

The man had jerked awake at the touch, instinctively jumping up and reaching out to defend himself from whoever was touching him. He must have fallen asleep with the shiny, sharp metal bat in his hand, because Clark didn’t see him pull it out of anything. Batman saw who was with him and leaned against the wall, deciding to save the attack for a later date. A bloodshot left eye looked at Clark, the broken remains of the lens accentuating the eye hole. Black stuff around the eye hid the shape but the iris would have been a beautiful blue if the eye wasn’t so bloodshot. Clark broke into his own thoughts before they got him into trouble, as apparently he had a weakness for men with blue eyes. 

“Are you ok, Batman?” 

“What are you doing here?” The growl didn’t hold its usual venom, and Clark almost smiled at what he chose to interpret as a positive sign. 

“I heard the news. A hundred armed men behind a barricade that mysteriously opens up to let the cops in. Cops are heroes, you don’t exist.” The calculating look in that eye was strangely exotic, even if Clark knew the coming words would hurt. 

“Do you do this for the fame?” 

Clark jerked back, offended. “No! I do it because I want to help.” Batman stared a while longer, but must have decided to take Clark at his word. He turned his head to look out over the city and a change in the wind brought the scent of fresh blood to Clark. “You’re bleeding again.” 

Batman prodded at his cut with his forefinger before rolling the blood through his fingers. His hand fell back to the wall and he seemed to forget about it. 

Clark stepped closer but didn’t touch him. “Don’t you have bandages or something?” 

Giving Clark a condescending look seemed to perk Batman up a bit. “I used my first aid kit on a family of five before I even got to the power plant. Home invasion. I should go and take fingerprints before the cops mess up the scene.” 

He reached behind his back and inside his cape, but Clark stopped the movement with a hand on his shoulder. “Let the cops track them, unless you think the Black Mask went into that house himself. You’re exhausted, dehydrated, and suffering from blood loss. And nocturnal: it is almost dawn.” 

“I want to find those guys and do to them what they did to that family before the cops put ‘em in jail.” Batman spoke with conviction, but his body didn’t respond with movement. 

“I can stop you from going, because if you go like this you’ll just get an innocent hurt.” That at least got Batman to focus on him, but the intensity in that left eye made Clark miss the lens. “Let me take you somewhere, like a hotel that doesn’t ask questions.” 

Surprise and laughter arched in that left eye, but Batman only snorted. “I might be too tired to do you justice in a hotel.” 

Clark knew his face was the same color as his cape, even as he hurried to explain. “No, I meant someplace you could rest. A hotel, since you probably wouldn’t let me take you to your cave or anything.” 

Batman ran a hand over his missing ear, like the lost electronics bothered him more than the gaping wound. “The woods, where we parted before. You can take me there.” 

Clark felt joy at the idea that Batman would let him do anything for him. He tried to damper down his grin as he stepped up to Batman’s side. Batman stood on his foot, but there was a moment of awkwardness as they figured out where to put their arms. Finally, Clark let Batman wrap his arm around Clark’s shoulders and then reciprocated. He lifted off gently and was in no great hurry to reach the woods. 

“Do you want that same clearing or where you got picked up the last time?” When there was no response, Clark thought maybe Batman had fallen asleep. He was hard pressed not to be visibly startled when Batman spoke, just short of the woods. 

“Where I got picked up.” 

Clark landed as gently as he could and watched Batman walk into the woods that bordered the road. Batman found a sizable tree and sat behind it, hidden from the road. 

“I’m not calling for my ride until you are out of Gotham airspace. And don’t use your super-hearing to spy on me.” 

“Batman, wouldn’t tonight have been easier if you had friends you could call on?” Like me, Clark really wanted to add but wouldn’t let himself. Information made this man dangerous and Clark was afraid of what he would do if he knew how much he impressed Clark. 

“Not if they don’t even know enough about teamwork to take out a person who is equal, not better.” Batman was trying for condescending, but managed only a ‘lecturing on group tactics’ tone. Clark sighed heavily and wasn’t sure why. 

“I’ll have to think that over, but I already know we could benefit from you, your knowledge, and skill. I won’t listen to you leave. Have a nice day, stranger.” Clark flew off and didn’t allow himself to listen to Batman. Instead he remembered the amusement that flickered in a bloodshot eye when he had mentioned a hotel. Except that brought another pair of luminous, empty blue eyes to mind. He hadn’t determined whose eyes were bluer when he got back to his apartment, but he knew he preferred the intelligence and life in Batman’s eyes to Brucie’s permanently vacant ones. 

sB _Sb_ Bs

“Smallville!” If the angry cry hadn’t snapped him back to reality, the stapler to the nose would have. Clark frowned down at the stapler he had caught and tried to figure out what he had done that Lois had thrown it at him. “Really? A person has to resort to physical violence just to get your attention anymore?” 

“Sorry, Lois. I guess I am just a little…” 

“Tired, Clark? Distracted? Like you have been for the past two weeks?” Clark considered; had he spent most of two weeks on daydreams in between emergencies? Daydreams that either tried to find reason’s to ask Batman for help or convince himself to let Brucie explain gay sex to him. “Well I hope whoever is tiring you out can handle your little secrets.” 

“Actually, he knows all about me.” Clark chuckled a little at the thought of the world’s biggest idiot figuring out what Lois had missed. 

He had to take in the look on Lois’s face before he realized what he had just said out loud. Lois had implied a sexual partner, and Clark responded with the word _he_. The color drained out of his face as Lois stood and stalked over to him. Clark knew that look, knew she was never going to let this go. She might have believed Clark if he said Brucie was just a friend, if he had said that before his face started changing colors. He needed time to think about what to say to her. 

“The roof! Let’s go to the roof and talk.” 

Lois speared him with her eyes. “Fine, but you will explain that little comment to me.” 

Clark nodded as he led the way to the elevator. The damn thing was right there when he pushed the button, nobody else joined them and they were alone on the roof before he had an inkling of what to say. He couldn’t tell her the whole truth, so part of it would have to suffice. Leaning over the wall and facing the city, he sighed heavily before speaking. 

“That interview with Bruce Wayne that you were so jealous of? I really wish you had gotten it. Ollie took me to that party to relax and mingle. Instead he introduced me to Brucie, so when Brucie came out of the police station he recognized me. He offered me a ride and I thought it would be a good way to get the interview. In the limo he came on to me.” 

“Really?” Lois squealed like she had just been given an early Christmas present. Clark knew if he looked at her, she would be writing the article in her mind already. 

“Relax, Lois. It’s not exactly a secret. The news in Gotham doesn’t even bother to report on it, figuring everybody already knows. As far as I can tell, Brucie dates women and just sleeps with men to spice things up.” Clark heard the strangling sound that indicated Lois had just been denied an earth shattering scoop. Maybe he should have used the possibility of an article to distract Lois, but now that he had started, he found he wanted to talk about it. “The point, Lois, is that ever since he kissed me, I’ve been thinking about it.” 

He heard her gasp, but could tell she was trying to not be too shocked for his sake. 

“I’ve never even thought about a guy that way before! There was just something about Brucie that I responded to, and I have no idea what it is. Brucie is stupidity personified!” 

“Oh, Clark.” He could hear sympathy in her voice, but he also heard his voice speaking before she could finish his name. 

“Just wait, it gets better! There is this other guy, who hates me, goes out of his way to insult me. I was almost fine with that, until Brucie kissed me. Now I really want to hang out with this other guy, at least being gay for this guy would be worth it. Every time I learn something new, I wonder if he knows it already. I read an article and try to decide what he would think of it. He’s everything Brucie is not, except he doesn’t want to be around me. Why couldn’t Brucie hate me and this other guy want me? This situation is just absurd!” Clark buried his face in his hands and waited for Lois’s response. One of the things he loved about her was her ability to surprise him, so maybe she would surprise him with a useful answer. 

“Well, Smallville, not to shock your genteel ears, but either piss or get off the pot.” Clark turned and blinked at her. She smiled and gave a one shoulder shrug. “Go on a date with Brucie, and sleep with him. You’ll either hate it or love it. Either way, you’ll have your answers. Then you can work on getting the other guy to at least tolerate you, by doing to him what Brucie does to you. Do you have Wayne’s number?” 

Clark shook his head, too numb to guess what she was about to do. She pulled out her phone and punched buttons until the internet gave up its secrets. 

“Wayne Manor is unlisted, but there is a number for Wayne’s office at Wayne Tower.” More button pushing and she held the phone to his ear. 

“Wayne Enterprises, Mr. Wayne’s office.” 

“Yes…” Clark stopped to clear his squeaking throat before trying again. “Hello. I would like to talk to Mr. Wayne. Would you please tell him, it’s Clark Kent calling?” 

In the silence that followed, Clark’s hopes rose. No way would Wayne’s highly trained secretary let some bozo who pulled the number off the internet through to Brucie. The secretary’s long-suffering voice returned, and dashed Clark’s hopes. 

“Might you know a Lark Bent?” 

Clark groaned into the phone. “Yes, that’s probably what he knows me as.” 

“I’ll put you right through.” 

Clark hoped he would be on hold long enough that Lois would get bored and wander off, so he could hang up and not go through with this. Just to be contrary, Brucie picked up as soon as Clark had that comforting thought. 

“Fark! Long time no touch. Did you need an interview or a good fuck?” 

Clark felt that blush reach his toes. Lois saw it, rolled her eyes and started miming eating. 

“Supper! I thought maybe we could go to supper and talk or something.” Clark winced. It hadn’t been this hard to ask Lana out while she wore the Kryptonite necklace. Of course, he had wanted her. He didn’t want Brucie, he burned with a bizarre need for him. 

“Jark, I’m booked up for the next month, but you have such a great ass.” Brucie was weighing options **and it clearly hurt his two remaining brain cells**. “Screw it. I’ll just cancel the Johansson twins, Swedes you know. Early supper, tomorrow night, my house. Six-ish ok with you?” 

Clark wanted to scream into the phone, I never want to see you again. Instead his voice calmly answered. “That would be perfect, I’ll see you then.” 

“Ciao, beautiful buns!” The line disconnected before Clark could find anything to say to that. He handed the phone back to a grinning Lois. If this little experiment went the way Brucie was planning, Clark was just going to have to kill her. 

“Now you can find the other guy, on your own since you won’t tell me who it is, and make a date with him.” She turned and sauntered to the door, smugly satisfied her plan would work. Opening the door, she turned to face him with a frown. “It had better not be Oliver; I might have plans for him.” 

Being a good guy, Clark pulled out his cell to warn Ollie. He made sure his upcoming meeting with Bruce Wayne never came up in that conversation. 

sB _Sb_ Bs

Trying to sleep that night was a bad idea, full of vague ideas about what the date would lead to. Clark was at work two hours early, needing a distraction. Lois used her lunch break to follow Clark home and approve his outfit. When he protested, she informed him he wasn’t gay yet and still needed a woman’s touch. Clark sighed heavily, felt he should be offended by that comment but changed his shirt three times as ordered. 

She approved of black pants and a long sleeved dark purple shirt. When she unbuttoned the top four buttons to show off his chest, he was really glad he had ditched the uniform when trying on the second pair of trousers. Then she informed him he was very unlucky she was too busy to escort him to Gotham just to make sure he went. Instead she was only taking him as far as the train. 

All the way to the station Lois kept up a steady flow of advice on how to seduce a man. He tried to tell her seducing Brucie was hardly necessary but he couldn’t form the words. When he saw his face reflected in the glass of the train’s windows, he found he had been blushing so deeply for so long that parts of his face had run out of color. He spent the train ride trying to get his complexion back to normal. He didn’t want total strangers to see him like this, let alone someone he was going on a date with. And of course, thinking of it as a date and **the moron** who he was dating brought the blush back in full force. He was suddenly really glad Lois had made him take the train; it gave him time to recover and prepare. 

A taxi to Wayne Manor was more expensive than he had expected and depleted his cash, but he refused to put it on his credit card. The cabbie was already looking at him like he was a male escort; he didn’t want a receipt for possible reimbursement. He also didn’t want to have to remember this night when his bill came in the mail **or maybe ever.**

The manor itself was unexpectedly imposing. As often as he had visited Lex’s **imported** castle, this building should not have made him feel like such a country bumpkin. Standing in the driveway, he considered this house, the city, and the people. He decided they were all weird and he would be wise to stay as far away as he could. 

Coming to that conclusion, he prepared himself to fly away, only to watch his feet walk him into the shadows of the front entrance. His eyes had to adjust before he noticed the butler in the open door. He clamped down on his blush so only a tinge of pink showed. Alfred had doubtless seen his indecision; hopefully he would just think Clark was appreciating the house. 

“Master Kent, should you need transportation for future visits, we will be happy to provide you with conveyance.” Clark had to think about how to reply. How do you tell an obviously loyal butler you secretly hope to never have to see his employer again? 

”I’ll remember that, Mr. Pennyworth.” 

“Alfred, Sir. If you would please, follow me?” 

Clark followed Alfred into the house and marveled at what he saw. Classically elegant and immaculate, but somehow empty and sad. Like nobody had lived here for twenty years, even though he was following a man who probably lived here to dine with a man who did live here **physically, as there was no mental presence in Brucie to reside anywhere.** Clark felt the urge to x-ray the house and see if it was all like this, but decided that would be rude so he didn’t. 

Alfred was holding open a door so Clark walked though into an elegant dining room. The longest table Clark had ever seen was set with two places facing each other but in the middle of the table instead of the ends. The candles were already lit and Clark could only hope Alfred didn’t see his blush at the romantic setting. 

“Sir, it may not be my place, but I feel compelled to inform you of something.” Clark turned to face Alfred. His calm voice was formal but Clark still heard concern there. “Master Bruce can be very persuasive, but he cannot force you to do anything against your better judgment.” A pause for Clark to absorb this message before Alfred was all butler again. “I will inform him that you have arrived.” 

A slight bow and Alfred was gone. Clark successfully fought down another blush; Alfred didn’t think he had stopped to admire the house after all. Without instructions or labels to guide him, Clark chose the chair facing the window. The sunlight would keep his energy up, and maybe hide his reactions to Brucie. This was such a mistake. Why had he opened his mouth to Lois? Batman was right; he would just have to stop talking to Lois as either Clark or Superman. Except Clark knew he couldn’t live in the silence and darkness like Batman did. He hated keeping secrets, even when there was a **very** good reason for them. Batman probably had secrets of his own and would understand Clark’s problems. Why was he even here? He should be hunting down Batman and making that irritating rodent his friend. 

Clark made himself not jump out of his skin as the door opened behind him. An exotic spice smell proceeded Brucie’s shuffle into the room. Clark paused before turning around to remember if Brucie had smelled that good before. He could only remember the way Brucie had smelled in the limo on the way to the _Daily Planet_. His cologne had worn off but other scents from the party had hung on him. Perfumes, alcohol and smoke fought with the hospital disinfectant. Stale coffee and sweat from the police station, but under all that was a scent Clark couldn’t put a name to. It was heady, sexy and pure Brucie. Maybe his super-smell was what was confusing his body like this. 

A hand trailing under his shirt collar and down his spine brought his thoughts away from the scent and to the source of it. Brucie’s right hand was unbuttoning the buttons Clark had buttoned after he was an hour away from Lois. Clark forced himself to suck in a deep breath, trying to think of something to say to get Brucie to stop **or at least slow down**. 

“Oh, you’re awake.” Brucie sounded like it didn’t matter if the person he seduced was awake or not. The hands were removed but Clark could still feel where they had awoken his skin. Then an incredibly soft, husky voice whispered in his ear. “Food or fuck?” 

“Ffff…” Clark stopped when he realized he couldn’t get the vowels out. The double o, not the u, he felt the need to remind himself. What was it about Brucie that robbed him of the ability to form words? Was it the blatant sexuality or the word fuck stripped down to its literal meaning? “Supper! Uh, please?” 

“I bet we could squeeze in both.” Bruce decided as he pulled away, dragging his left hand across Clark’s shoulders. 

Clark took a deep breath that he promptly forgot about when Brucie entered his field of vision. Brucie was lightly tapping his fingers on the table as he walked toward the end, calling attention to himself. The black slacks he wore looked expensive but normal, until you saw the butt. Clark was no expert, but knew pants had to be tailored to fit like that. Fabric hugged and dipped over mounds of flesh Clark had underestimated in his imaginings. Brucie reached the end of the table and turned around the head seat. A second of viewing the side of Brucie’s bulge had Clark memorizing the pattern on the huge plate before him. He was very afraid that seeing the front of those pants would change his mind about what activity to participate in **first**. He waited until he heard Brucie sit down before daring to look up. 

He was prevented from sucking in air by the fact he was already full and holding. He slowly let the air out, trying to adjust to the skin tight, grey silk, button up shirt that danced in the sunlight as Brucie breathed. He had known Brucie was muscular and tough by the way he took out those kidnappers but it hadn’t been on display like this. With the sunlight haloed around him, Clark couldn’t see Brucie’s face properly without cheating. Shadows highlighted the contours of his face, and specks of blue glowed within that play of shadow and light. Clark licked his lips; he had chosen the wrong seat after all. His stomach broke the silence by rumbling but it was a need of a different sort than food. Clark decided he was not the kind of man who told someone they were yummy, and kept his mouth shut. 

“Well, since you’re so hungry, for food…” Brucie sounded amused and then disappointed, but reached for the center of the table to ring a small bell there. Alfred entered the dining room with a tray and placed a large Greek salad in front of Brucie. He then had to walk around the long table to bring a salad for Clark. With the empty tray before him, Alfred bowed slightly. 

“Master Kent, I have a wine selected for this evening’s Beef Wellington. Mater Bruce, however, was unsure of your beverage preference.” Brucie’s drummed his fingers once on the table, slowly, but Alfred stiffened a little bit at the sound. He wasn’t startled, just tense for some reason. Why would asking Clark what he wanted to drink be a sore spot between them? 

“It doesn’t really matter, Alfred, but I would be fine with some sweet tea, if it wasn’t any trouble.” 

“Very good, Sir.” Alfred whisked away and Brucie watched him go with a frozen expression. 

Clark watched Brucie, wishing he could see more than angles and light. When Brucie turned back to Clark, a dazzling smile was in place. Brucie pulled the ring off of his napkin, put the napkin in his lap and picked up one of his forks. Clark mimicked these actions while Brucie took a small bite of salad. Clark had just shoved a big bite into his mouth when Brucie asked. 

“How great is it, being Superman?” 

Even as Clark choked on his food he wondered if Brucie had done that on purpose. But Brucie look as guileless as a blue eyed cow chewing on his greens. Alfred brought in a pitcher and two glasses of tea, while Clark considered his answer. Brucie seemed more interested in sex than telling people what he had learned about Clark. Brucie probably wouldn’t even remember what Clark said, he was just making small talk while he waited for sex. 

A small voice growled a warning: **He didn’t know Brucie that well and Alfred was concerned about Brucie’s motives**. But if Alfred had essentially raised Brucie, maybe he still saw the intense child Ollie had described instead of the incubus Brucie grew into. Maybe Clark was over thinking this; it wasn’t like Batman was sitting across the table. Clark grinned at that silly thought and decided to answer Brucie’s questions as honestly as he could without telling him the secrets of his friends. **In simple words** , a growling mental voice amended. 

“Well, Brucie, being a hero is harder than it seems.” Words spilled out as Clark sought to describe things, followed by questions and concerns he had never voiced before. It would have been nicer if Brucie understood or even looked like he was paying attention. 

Brucie looked like he was daydreaming about sex, except when Clark stopped talking Brucie would have a stupid sounding but relevant question. Clark talked around his meal and drank close to two pitchers of excellent sweet tea while the sun sank behind Brucie. About an hour after his third serving of Beef Wellington, Clark realized he was talking too much about his teammates. He trailed off and waited for Bruce to speak. He started to review what he had said, to make sure he hadn’t revealed too much about the members of the Justice League. 

Brucie reached for the pitcher to refill his own glass and managed to do so, apparently unaware his foot was crawling up Clark’s leg. By the time that foot was in Clark’s lap, Clark had forgotten what he had just been thinking about. Brucie has really long legs, Clark thought instead, which was followed up by a lusty voice wondering what else Brucie had that was really long. Clark fought back the resulting blush even as he realized Brucie was no longer wearing the expensive shoes he had walked in with. Naked toes seemed to be massaging his balls. 

He let the blush go to concentrate on keeping his penis calm. What was it about Brucie that turned Clark on so hard, so instantly? Clark had been doing all the talking, so Brucie was still a stranger to him. That growling thought voice that sounded more like Batman every time it spoke up, in sound as well as words, had something to say. **You will regret it if you don’t leave right now, Clark;** the voice warned and Clark agreed, but a low voice coming from Brucie was much more seductive. 

“At Wayne Manor, we try to provide options for our guests.” Naturally, Brucie’s home was as open to options as he was. Then his toes started squeezing with each word. “Tricks, treats, and all sorts of desserts.” 

He made his point by dragging his foot to the very edge of Clark’s penis. Clark had to track down the source of the needful moan that filled the room after that little maneuver. He was beginning to suspect he had made that moan when Alfred entered the room. His hands were free of food and Clark’s face mottled as he realized how much he wanted the dessert Brucie had been offering. 

“Master Bruce, something has come up that I need to discuss with you.” 

Brucie sighed heavily, but understood that Alfred wanted to talk to him privately. “Pardon me, won’t you?” 

His foot oozed off of Clark’s lap slowly, making it even harder for Clark to avoid getting hard. His body screamed for Brucie to come back and finish what he had started. If Clark listened to it he would lose his hard fought control, so he opened his hearing for a distraction anywhere in the world. He found the conversation in the hall was soft but intense and that he couldn’t stop himself from listening. 

“Master Bruce, I must, yet again, protest how you are treating that young man.” Was Alfred this protective of all of Brucie’s conquests? An unfortunate thought, as it made Clark realize he was just another in a long line to fall for Brucie’s superpower of seduction. 

“I know, Alfred; you think it’s cruel. But it’s a cruel world and everybody needs to learn that eventually. There are some lessons I have no problem teaching.” An edge to Brucie’s voice that Clark felt he should have expected, but he had no idea why he felt that. Though he also had no idea what could be cruel about sex with a consenting adult. 

“Sir, I feel you are tampering with forces you underestimate.” What was Alfred referring to? Had Brucie told his butler he was having dinner with Superman? **He’s idiotic enough to** , the growl voice added. 

“Please, Alfred, you know why I do what I do.” Brucie was pleading with Alfred to understand, wanting his approval. “Besides, he’s too much of a Boy Scout to even listen in on this conversation, let alone retaliate.” 

“Retaliation comes in many forms, some of which you do not take into consideration. There are other methods to get what you want.” There was some secret message Alfred was trying to get through Brucie’s thick skull, the lesson just wasn’t taking. The man must have the patience of a saint. **Make that two saints and a Zen master** , the growl voice that wanted to be Batman added. 

“I considered them, this is best.” The conversation was over, because Brucie turned away from Alfred and walked back into the room. 

Clark didn’t even understand the bits of that conversation he would have understood if he was thinking clearly. There was something really off about Brucie’s words and the way he was saying them, but Clark’s brain couldn’t make the connection. It didn’t matter, as he could review it verbatim when his brain was working again. If Brucie didn’t permanently turn his brain to mush, because he was walking toward Clark with naked lust on his face. 

Somehow, Clark’s chair got turned to watch Brucie walk the length of the table toward him. The almost-set sun’s colors were dancing around that grey silk but those iris shaped crystals were vacant and empty of thought. The lust written on his body didn’t reach those eyes, which made Clark rather sad. Before he could pursue that thought, Brucie was kneeling in front of him. He folded his hands together before placing them on Clark’s thighs. The supplicant position, the praying hands and the lust filled look was an ego trip even Superman couldn’t resist. 

“I missed you while I was gone.” Unlike the empty eyes, the lust filled Brucie’s voice and Clark was instantly hard. 

Brucie worked his erection free of his pants and started working it with his hands. Some part of his brain noticed Brucie was putting a lot of concentration into learning Clark’s penis, just about the time he licked the tip. Clark forgot to think and just felt all the things happening down there. Pleasure was radiating out that area, building up until even his eyes got warm. He recognized that heat just in time to slap a hand over his eyes. There was pain in his hand but so much pleasure in the rest of his body he forgot about it as he came into Brucie. The spasms eventually stopped and Clark found enough control to remove his hand from his eyes. Brucie sat on his lap and leaned his back into Clark’s chest. Pulling Clark’s hands in front of him, he watched the palm of the right hand knit itself back together until it matched the left. 

“So just like that, you’re healed?” 

“It’ll probably be sore for a couple hours. I’ve never injured myself that bad before, never lost control like that before.” Still basking in the afterglow, Clark wasn’t thinking about what he was saying anymore. Besides, it was Brucie, so all his words just bounced off the marshmallow in Brucie’s skull. Despite what Alfred seemed to think, Brucie didn’t have the ability to assimilate information and turn it into a plan of attack. On the heels of this thought, Brucie swiveled around on Clark’s lap to better whisper in his ear. 

“Do you want dessert here or upstairs, third door on the right?” It wasn’t until Clark was opening the door that he understood Brucie had told him which door because he was already on the steps with Brucie’s legs clamped around his waist. Answer enough for even Brucie, it would seem. 

Clark couldn’t focus on the room on the other side of the door he was opening, because the bed was growing as Clark watched. Except that couldn’t actually be happening, maybe something he ate was affecting him a little. **Yes, beef wellington is a hallucinogenic on Krypton** , came a snarky little mental voice. Brucie took that moment to slip out of Clark’s arms, so Clark got to ignore that voice and concentrate on why Brucie had moved away. 

Brucie was pulling off the Lois approved outfit at an alarming rate. Faster, it seemed, than Clark could even managed to undo the top button of that skin tight shirt that had been taunting him all night. An impatient Brucie pulled Clark’s hands from the second button and to his ass, which Brucie had managed to undress without Clark noticing. Clark pulled Brucie to him, using that firm ass as a hand hold, and felt a stiffness that matched his own. 

Brucie was muscles, strength, hardness, and controlling. So different than anything Clark had ever experienced, so aggressive. He pulled Clark to the bed and positioned him. Clark lay on his back and watched as Brucie pulled a bottle from the bedside table and coated his penis with it. Clark had never seen another man this way, slick and aroused, but he would have fought to prove that Brucie had the most beautiful penis on the planet. The finger that entered Clark was exploratory, but Clark thought it must have touched his spinal column. His hands were twisting in the sheets; his hips were trying to buck while his legs pulled Brucie closer to encourage more of that finger inside. Brucie just let him buck and thrust a while, before casually inserting a second finger. Clark found his response was to buck harder, demanding more. 

His control was gone; he was just an observer in his own body while Brucie did whatever he wanted. Clark was always in control, so how had Brucie taken that away from him with a suggestive smile and a tight shirt? Losing control like this was bad, dangerous and the hottest thing Clark had ever experienced. 

**Not hot! Cold!** The normally growling voice now screamed at his brain, trying to get him to understand he would hurt Brucie if he lost control. Yes, think cold thoughts, Clark agreed with himself. Think about the arctic, the fortress, cold, sterile, with hard edges, just like the hard penetrating edges of Brucie’s large hand. Wait, how many fingers did Brucie have up there anyway? He was trying to figure out what Brucie’s thumb would feel like down there when he saw the hand pulled away. 

Brucie watched as his penis entered into Clark, then looked up to lock vacant eyes on Clark’s face. **He’s learning more about you than you are about him!** The growl tried to warn him, but Clark dismissed it as unimportant. As Brucie pushed in and pulled out, he changed angles until something connected. Clark folded his right hand over his left and covered his eyes in a millisecond. That spot, that reaction must have been what Brucie was looking for, because he kept hitting that spot after he found it. Clark was very, very happy to let him keep doing this for all eternity. But Brucie was naturally contrary, and must have sensed Clark decide this. Brucie reached down and grabbed Clark’s penis. 

A few twisting strokes to that sensitive organ and Clark was coming with Brucie shooting off inside him. Clark opened his mouth to scream out his joy to find air rushing out without giving voice to what he was feeling. It did make a familiar noise and slowly Clark pulled his hands away from his eyes. He had just coated Brucie’s ceiling with ice. Twice in one night he had lost control enough to damage things! Clark looked at Brucie to apologize. Brucie was staring up at the ice with a confused expression Clark suspected he used often. Brucie felt him looking and locked eyes again so he could shrug at Clark. 

“You wouldn’t think there was enough water in the air to coat the whole ceiling like that.” 

Now Clark was confused, and felt rather idiotic as he answered. “I never really thought about it before. I guess I must be able to freeze atmospheric gasses and particulates as well as water molecules.” 

“Really? You never, like held a thermometer in front of you to see how cold you could make it?” Brucie asked as he lay down, mostly on Clark, to stare at the ceiling. For his part, Clark was so distracted by the offending shirt that kept him from touching as much of Brucie as possible, that he answered without thinking. 

“Not really. When I got a new ability I had to learn to control it before I destroyed something. By the time I learned control, it was just another gift that life kept me too busy to experiment with.” 

“You know, I think that, if I was, you know, smart, I would learn, like, everything I could. Especially stuff about myself and, uh, my limits. Wouldn’t that be a good thing to know?” 

The sarcastic laughter of the bat-voice in Clark’s head was really irritating, but its words were downright painful to consider. **You thought it was funny when the idiot got one over on Lois; surely it’s just as funny when Brucie the barnacle brain bashes you over the head with your own brainlessness!** As Clark brought his hands up to rub at his head, he noticed they only had two more buttons to contend with. 

“You’re absolutely right Brucie. I should find out all I can about myself. Some of it does depend on how much sunlight I am exposed to though, so it could be hard to thoroughly test my abilities.” 

“Really? I’m right about something?” Clark’s laugh was good natured, but a little sad. How could a grown man be that stupid and still outsmart people? 

“Yes, Brucie, you’re right about a lot of things. You were right about me being interested, even when I didn’t know I was. You were also right about me being bisexual, though I don’t know if everybody is.” An image of Batman, humor arcing through his bloodshot eye, filled Clark’s mind. Batman hadn’t been offended by the idea of a hotel; he made a joke out of it. Maybe Lois was right; maybe he could do to Batman what Brucie did to him, once he figured out what Brucie was doing. 

The feeling of silk under his hands brought him back to Brucie. Moonlight highlighted dark, tousled hair and chiseled features, silk pooling around him, beautiful pure silk diminished by the radiance of Brucie. The shirt was finally unbuttoned, but Brucie was considering the ceiling, mesmerized by the ice. Clark had forgotten about the ice covered ceiling. Clark sighed. 

“How am I going to fix that?” 

“I don’t know, I usually just tell Alfred when I make a mess.” Brucie was languid with his reply, apparently content to watch the ice melt. “I guess I should call him up here.” 

“No! I mean, not right now.” Clark was blushing. He didn’t want the nice man who stood up for him to see him like this. How could he have slept with Brucie, a man he would be embarrassed to be seen with in public? Why wasn’t he flying out of here right now, instead of fondling Brucie’s muscles? Hard muscles under skin that wasn’t as soft and blemish free as Clark expected, but he couldn’t focus on that right now. 

“Alfred gets offended when I spill a drink, so I don’t think he would like it if all that ice melted on the furniture.” Brucie sighed, but rolled off of Clark to reach for the phone. 

Clark stopped his hand and smiled at Brucie’s confused look before pulling on his clothes. A little bit of super speed and super strength, and the bed was the only room furniture not in the hall. Brucie had turned a bed sheet into a toga as he got out of bed to watch. 

“I’m not sure how a four poster bed got into this room. The door is way too small for this thing and I don’t see any joints to take it apart from.” Clark wasn’t expecting any help from Brucie, so he was surprised into laughing when Brucie came up with a solution. 

“Maybe they flew it in the balcony?” 

Clark didn’t know if that’s how they did it, but a quick glance showed it would fit. Once the bed was on the ground below the double doors of the balcony, Clark was left with the ice. Brucie leaned against the balcony rail, making a bed sheet dress look very masculine and sexy. Clark blushed as he imagined taking Brucie on that balcony, the sheet blowing away in the wind. The heat in his face gave him an idea and Clark deliberately turned away from Brucie to implement it. 

Changing his vision to better help him see the tiny particles in the air, Clark kicked his metabolism into overdrive. The heat from his body rose up to the ceiling and melted the ice. As it dripped, Clark zapped the drops with his heat vision, evaporating them before they could touch the carpet. It was a slow process, but Clark felt elated by it. He had never done this before, a new use of his abilities found and controlled when he was already tired from a long day and sex. When he was content that the ceiling was dry, he ran his hands over the carpet to check for wet spots. He found none and turned to grin his success at Brucie. He was obviously very impressed, as at some point he had stretched out on the stone railing and fallen asleep. 

**Just shove him off,** suggested the new voice in Clark’s head. As he moved the furniture back into place, Clark wondered why he had recently started having thoughts like that. Snarky, mean spirited comments that belonged in Batman’s mouth instead of the brain of a nice guy like Clark Kent. Which, he figured, was why they sounded like Batman’s voice when they came. These thoughts despised stupid people, and had started just when Clark needed to put up with Brucie. The first one hadn’t even been a thought, just a raw emotional reaction to Brucie’s raw sushi. Now the fully fledged thoughts had emotions and a special voice they came to him in. This new type of thinking loved to pick on Brucie, and Clark for falling for him. Clark was reaching for sleeping Brucie to carry him to the bed when that thought occurred. 

No, I am not falling for him. Clark told himself with complete conviction. I was just lonely and horny; I would have gone for anybody who looked at me funny. But it was just sex, and now that it is out of my system I can go back to normal. Clark could feel the new voice smirk at that foolish notion, no need to say anything. He sighed heavily, before carrying Brucie to the bed and tucking him in. Clark made sure he had all of his clothes and flew out the balcony. The light of Metropolis would drive out the darkness of Gotham. Once he killed Lois for turning a passing fancy into a burning desire, he could go on with his life. 

sB _Sb_ Bs


	3. Will the real Bat-voice please stand up?

Clark was surprised that there were six messages on his phone when he returned to his apartment. What didn’t surprise him was that they were all from Lois, and he was suddenly glad he had been too dazed to take his phone with him. Lois sounded curious, then surprised, then smug as the messages played. Her final message simply oozed with smugness, as if it was her breaking up with him that had driven him into Brucie’s arms. This, Clark considered, was probably as good a reason as he was likely to get for why he just had sex with a man he considered to be brain damaged.

“Well Clark, I guess it wasn’t that bad, since you decided to spend the night. Unless he whisks your hot little body away from it all, you’ll just have to tell me all about it at lunch tomorrow. A long lunch, as I expect a blow by bl… uh, a full description anyway. You have the rich lover, so you’re buying!” 

Clark happily deleted the messages, wishing he could delete the lunch meeting just as easily. **Just lie to her.** The growl-voice was still in place, ordering Clark around like Batman liked to do. **Tell her you left before Alfred could serve dessert, because Brucie was too damn irritating.** As Clark made his way to the shower, he thought about it. 

The first part of that sentence was true, Alfred never had served dessert. Brucie was less irritating when he didn’t speak so Clark had enjoyed his supper. What came after was considerably more enjoyable, but Lois didn’t need to know about that. If he kept calm and remembered to keep his face under control, he might get away with lying to Lois. He hated lying though, as it wasn’t who he was raised to be. **But neither is hopping in bed on the first date.** Clark rolled his eyes, thinking how he’d always thought Lois would be the one to drive him crazy. 

He still loved Lois, but couldn’t see a future for them because she loved Superman and Clark as separate people. Thinking of the future with Brucie made his head hurt, but had his penis twitching hopefully. Nobody had ever affected and effected him that badly before. He was raised human and lusted after them, but now a man he couldn’t stand had him begging for more. 

Maybe it was just because he was tired that going back to Wayne Manor right now sounded like a good idea. He had a full day before him and an exhausting lunch meeting with Lois. He knew he should shower quickly and try to absorb some sunlight before heading for work. Instead, he lingered under the water, feeling the need to analyze the evening’s events. **Right, _analyze_ it, ** The bat-voice hit new levels of condescension and sarcasm that time. 

Trying to understand the conversation between Brucie and Alfred would be a good place to start, he decided. Except, when he reached for that memory, his mind gave him Brucie walking toward him after that conversation and he forgot what he was looking for and why. The blue, the grey, the lust all carried toward Clark by those black pants. He hadn’t noticed before, distracted by the empty eyes, but he had been right. Brucie had paid somebody to tailor those pants to his naughty bits. Had Brucie made Alfred sexy up his pants or had he paid some complete stranger to highlight his assets? Or had one of his conquests done it in exchange for a second tumble in the sack? Clark brought his mind savagely away from speculation as to what he would do for a second night with Brucie. 

Like the tight shirt did for the chest muscles, his pants had displayed everything for Clark. He hadn’t got a good look at naked Brucie, because about the time Clark removed the shirt the toga had been pulled into play. The image of Brucie on the balcony in that toga had Clark remembering his plan to seduce Brucie there. Maybe Brucie had seen that little fantasy play out in Clark’s eyes and had pretended to fall asleep because he wasn’t ready to let Clark take him that way. **Oh yeah, that’s likely.** That sarcastic little comment was expected and could have come from either Clark or the bat-voice. Still, the image of Brucie in a toga was one worth preserving for eternity, as it had him hard. 

Clark held himself and stroked as he imagined Brucie in the moonlight. He could pull the sheet up to his waist, freeing Brucie’s penis only to trap it between them. He could feel the softness of the sheet penetrated by hardness rubbing against Clark’s stomach as he pumped into Brucie. Watching as blue eyes became more blissful than blissfully ignorant. Clark stopped everything as he realized he had just seen a flash of a bloodshot left eye. Why did Batman keep intruding on his private time with Brucie? 

Well, if codpiece-free Batman wanted a little attention, Clark could oblige. Bend him over the railing, cut away a backdoor. Batman would growl with each thrust, and if Clark hesitated, Batman would grab Clark’s ass and pull him further in. Aggressive, controlling, demanding, and more than capable of taking whatever Clark had to give, so Clark gave it to him. 

The orgasm rolled away, leaving Clark to stare at a shower wall with confusion. He used the now cold water to clean his fluids away. A quick dry and he went to the mirror to comb his hair. He stared at his reflection and found a new thought running through his mind, in his own voice. Was he gay, bisexual, or just obsessive about Gothamites? As much as he had liked Commissioner Gordon, if he started having fantasies about that man he was going to reserve a room at Arkham. **So you can have sexy Gothamite Doctor dreams?** inquired the bat-voice, but Clark was getting better at ignoring it. Clark dressed and made it to work in time to join Lois in the elevator. She smirked, but didn’t say anything. This, he decided, was a very bad omen for lunch. 

He settled in to check his email and picked up a pen to write a post-it note. Clark was suddenly uncomfortably aware that the cheap round pen looked rather phallic. He fought down a blush at the thought and heard Lois tapping her pen on the desk as she read. It sounded kind of like the rhythm of Brucie pounding into him, a noise he had been too busy to appreciate at the time. Clark was distracted from that noise by a cracking noise and something splattering across his face. The cheap pen just snapped in his fingers for some reason. He blushed and went to the bathroom to wash up, embarrassment keeping his mind sex free for almost five minutes. Time crawled by as Clark tried to find something to distract him, but he shattered his third pen just after 11 AM. 

“Damn it Kent!” Lois growled at him, pulling out a mirror to better see the ink on her face. “It’s not going to work!” Confusion was a good distraction, but it didn’t last long as Lois went on to explain. “Covering us ink isn’t going to get you out of telling me all about last night. Instead of going out, we’re going to your apartment and ordering in. Let’s go now, before the whole office needs to be repainted.” 

Clark sighed heavily, but gave into that reasoning. He needed ink-free clothes and maybe talking about it would help. **That’s what you said before she made the date** , the bat-voice reminded him grimly. Clark sighed again as he realized the damned voice was usually right. Lois kept up a stream of chitchat, water cooler gossip that Clark wasn’t interested in, while they walked together. It just gave her something to do until they were behind his apartment door and could speak freely. They came off the elevator and were almost to the door of Clark’s apartment when the door opened from the inside. All three of them stopped to stare at each other in surprise, but the workman was the first to recover. He hitched the heavy tool belt up, but it didn’t move very far because of the massive beer gut. 

“Super said you worked during the day when he let me in.” He gave Lois an appreciative leer before continuing. “But I can see why you would skip out early.” 

Lois looked like she was about to slap him, so Clark interrupted before things got out of hand. “Why did the super let you into my apartment?” 

“General inspection of the premises, for the new owner or some such.” He scratched idly under his greasy Gotham Knights ball cap as he eased out into the hallway. Clark stepped in front of him to make him stop. 

“What new owner? I hadn’t heard this building was for sell.” 

“I don’t know; I just go where they tell me. Hold on.” With the air of someone performing a great favor, he started rooting around his overall pockets. He finally emerged with a wadded bit of paper. He unfolded it and let his lips move as he read it. “We bought it apparently.” 

Lois shot Clark a look, but he was unwilling to accept what this stranger had just told him. “May I see that paper?” 

The workman looked between Clark and the paper a couple of times before shrugging and handing it over. Clark made his eyes read the paper, instead of just looking for the two letters of concern. It contained orders for a Larry Verne to inspect a certain number of apartments in preparation for selling the building to W.E. Clark stared at the two little dots that made ‘we’ into Wayne Enterprises. Lois’s hand on his arm gave him the impetus to hand back the paper. 

“Thank you, Mr. Verne, for letting me see your orders.” He sounded calm, but that was because he had no idea what his reaction was supposed to be in this situation. “Was everything up to code?” 

“Sure was. I wish I lived here!” Clark moved to the side and Mr. Verne tipped his hat at Lois before heading down the hallway. He whistled a jaunty tune as he left and Clark numbly let Lois into his place. Clark heard Mr. Verne get on the elevator as the apartment door closed behind them and Lois whirled on him. 

“Did Bruce Wayne just buy your apartment building? Is that sexy or weird? I’m getting a creepy, stalker vibe.” Clark wasn’t sure what to think; even the bat-voice was silent. So he pulled out his phone and found the number for Brucie’s office. His voice was firm when he replied to the secretary’s hail. 

“Could I speak to Brucie Wayne? My name is Clark Kent, or Lark Bent or something silly that’s close.” 

“Yes, of course sir. Mr. Wayne is not in the office at the moment, but I have instructions to put you through to his cell phone. Please hold.” 

While Clark waited, Lois moved into the living area and ordered lunch. She was done and staring at Clark when the phone was finally answered. 

“Clark baby! Miss me already?” Clark could hear city sounds behind vapid voice but didn’t let himself wonder why Brucie was walking instead of riding in one of his limos. Brucie had actually called him by his real name, which startled Clark. Statistically speaking, Brucie was bound to get it right sooner or later. 

“Actually, Brucie, a building that wasn’t for sale, just got sold. You have a reputation for buying things that aren’t for sale, so I thought I would ask if you bought it.” 

“Maybe, I buy a lot of things.” A cup of coffee, a jacket, a building: all ‘things’ Brucie could buy on an impulse and then forget about, apparently. 

“Well, this building happens to be my apartment building, in Metropolis.” 

“Right, that building! Yeah, I asked Lucius if we could get that a couple of hours ago. I wonder how he managed it so quick.” 

“OK.” Clark took a deep breath, holding onto his calm tone. “Why did you want to buy this building, so suddenly?” 

“Well, see, there is this movie I like. This hot little number can’t afford her pizza and the delivery man is willing to accept something other than money, if you know what I mean. I was in the limo thinking about this movie, and then thinking about when you and I were in a limo together. I thought about it, and decided I could take something other than rent money from you.” 

Of course Brucie gets real estate advice from porno movies! Why didn’t this Lucius just tell him no? Clark pushed the air out of his lungs and took another deep breath before replying. “Thank you, Brucie. But I think I will continue to pay my rent with actual money.” 

“So sex with you is free?” The leer in his voice probably stopped foot traffic around Brucie. Clark smacked his free hand against his forehead with enough force to crush a bowling ball. 

“Really Brucie, not everyone needs expensive gifts thrown at them just for…” Clark stopped, he had been about to say ‘putting up with you’ and didn’t need Batman’s voice to point out that was the wrong thing to say to your new landlord/annoyance with benefits. “Right. Well, I have to get back to work. You enjoy your new building.” 

“See ya supersexy!” The phone clicked off before Clark could even begin to protest that little nickname. He turned away from the phone to see Lois using her one ounce of restraint to not laugh in his face. He frowned down at her. 

“You realize it’s all your fault, don’t you?” 

“Maybe if you define ‘it’ I’ll take responsibility for it.” The air quotes weren’t necessary, but neither was the great amusement she was getting out of this situation. 

Clark inhaled through his nose and exhaled through his mouth, a calming technique the doctors had told his Pa to use. On his second sniff he caught a smell under everything else. It was subtle, as if steps had been taken to hide it. The cologne of the workman had been cheap and strong, so this might have been his sent under it. Except it tickled the edge of Clark’s memory, like he had smelled it before and not thought about it at the time. 

“Come on Clark! Talk to me, I’m dying here!” Lois’s command was a distraction and Clark had been looking for one of those all morning. He sat next to her on the couch and tried to discuss it. 

“The food was great, but the conversation was very one sided. I didn’t realize I could talk that long. I know more about the people I’ve had a ten minute interview with than I do about a guy I was with all night. I’d think he wasn’t even paying attention and he’d ask a question that I could talk about for twenty minutes.” All his plans for lying disappeared as he sagged into his couch. Clark closed his eyes and forced himself not to think about what he was saying too much. “We had sex. I write for a living, and I can’t find the words to describe what it was like. I don’t know if it was because it was a new experience or would have been the same with any guy. But I think it was something about Brucie.” 

Lois was silent for a couple of minutes before asking in a calm voice. “Do you still prefer to be around this other guy?” 

Clark considered that question for a long time. The delivery guy showed up and he paid for the food before he managed to find an answer. Lois dug into the bag as Clark sat back down. “Lois, I just don’t know. I can’t imagine a life with Brucie outside the bedroom. The other guy would make a great partner for everything else. Actually, he’s very physical so he’d probably be great in the bedroom too, if I could find a way to interest him.” 

“I might be able to help more if you told me who this other guy was.” Lois offered in a reasonable tone, but Clark knew better than to tell her. She was curious now, but if he said the word Batman she’d latch onto him like a tick until she got everything out of him. When they were together, Lois had convinced herself she knew everything about him and couldn’t be bothered to get that curious about his little disappearances. Deep in his heart, Clark had known then that if she truly cared she would have focused all her determination on figuring him out. 

“You don’t know him, but to make things easier we could call him Sherlock or something.” He threw that out with a casualness famous actors would be proud of. 

Lois snorted. “What, is he a cop or something?” 

Clark nodded at the ‘or something’ which let Lois think Sherlock was a cop. 

“Is he straight?” A fair question that Clark shrugged at, he didn’t know. Would Batman be amused if he asked? A question Clark could never answer, but it made him remember humor in a bloodshot blue eye. 

“Actually, I was talking with him recently and said, well, I offered to take him to a hotel that didn’t ask questions.” Clark paused to let Lois laugh; she understood that he hadn’t meant that like it sounded. “I was trying to help without blowing his cover, and it just came out wrong. It startled and amused him, so he made a joke and that was that. But he didn’t get angry or disgusted at the idea. Some tough guys, you imply they are gay and they explode with rage. Maybe, if Sherlock wanted me, I could forget all about Brucie.” 

“Wait. What joke did Sherlock make?” Now Clark looked at Lois, unsure of why that was important. 

“He said he was too tired to do me justice in a hotel. Why?” 

Lois gave in to the urge to do a face-plant before answering. “Because, Clark, of all the jokes he could have made at a comment like that, Sherlock responded with one that said if he wasn’t tired, he might be interested. If what you said was a double entendre, so was what he said.” 

“But, he hates me. Always has before, growling orders at me, tossing me insults like candy at a parade.” 

“Be fair Smallville, you’re a perfect target; can’t blame the man for aiming.” Clark was too distracted by the images his brain was presenting him to acknowledge that comment. “Besides, if he needed help, he probably didn’t have the wherewithal to lie or play mind games.” 

“So he might actually like me, or at least be interested in getting to know me?” Blossoming hope showed in Clark’s surprised voice. 

“Yes, Clark. If you decided on the moniker of Sherlock for him, he’s probably a smart man who thinks and learns about things before acting. The exact opposite of Brucie, so you have to be his Brucie to your Clark.” 

That brought Clark’s brain back to Lois’s words. “Wait, what? Don’t you think I should show him that I’m not an incompetent idiot?” 

“Definitely not! Play up to his expectations until you get what you want. Once he’s hooked, then you can work on changing his mind. Trying to change him before you hook him never works.” There was pain and experience behind those words, but Clark was too focused on the words to ask about it. 

“Lois, that sounds really conniving.” 

“But it works Clark.” Lois shrugged as she took a tentative bite of the food. Clark wasn’t hungry but followed her actions anyway. “Next time you see him, flirt shamelessly. Lower your head and look up at him with adoring eyes. Touch his skin as much as possible, stand too close and complement everything he does.” 

“Sherlock will see right through that!” Clark was glad he got that out before he had to hear the bat-voice say it. 

“Most men do, but they still love it.” Lois lowered her head and looked up at him with goo-goo eyes. “You loved it when I did it to you.” 

“I loved you, Lois. I’d have been happy with any attention you paid me.” Clark couldn’t even stir up regret at the fact that she was done with him. 

“Loved, past tense, Clark?” Lois actually sounded hurt, though she tried to hide it with mock anger. 

“I still love you, of course, but it’s changed. You’re a friend, a sister now instead of a potential sexual partner.” What Lois had wanted for a while and Clark finally accepted as reality. He’d eventually find someone else, apparently in Gotham. 

“Well, now that that’s settled, we can eat.” Lois’s bright voice was still in the air when the food filled her mouth. They talked of trivialities while they ate, but Clark’s brain was mostly focused on the new idea Lois had given him. There was a tiny chance that Batman didn’t hate him. Gotham’s Dark Knight might not be Clark’s knight in shining armor, but at least they weren’t enemies. **Yet,** the bat-voice added, just to be a nuisance. 

sB _Sb_ Bs

Clark was dreamy for the rest of the work day, but made up for it while patrolling. The late afternoon sunlight had helped and he got to plan instead of just daydreaming. At full dark, he celebrated the completion of his plan by stopping a gas station robbery. The next time he saw Batman, he was going to complement him, tell him when he did something that impressed Clark. 

A couple of meetings like that and he was going to start sending him suggestive eyes, but he knew he’d have to practice the looks Brucie used. If they got to work together, standing close wouldn’t be a problem, but Batman’s only exposed skin was his jaw line. **And those lips that are always pulled back into a grimace at seeing you.** Clark understood from the tone that the bat-voice didn’t approve of Lois’s method, but the idea it had presented was impossible, risky and dangerous. 

In the same exasperated tone that it had advised lying to Lois, the bat-voice had told him to just pull the mask off. Sure, the armor was no match for Clark’s strength but the man obviously didn’t want Clark to know who he was. It would just piss him off if Clark tried that. He did have access to Kryptonite and the official blind Superman phone app, and he had plenty time to come up with more tricks since Clark saw him last. No, in this instant the bat-voice was wrong. If he angered the Bat, Clark would never get what he wanted from him. Now Clark had to figure out what he wanted, sex or something more? 

A bloodcurdling scream pulled Clark down to its source, on high alert for whatever vicious monster could cause a woman to produce such a noise. Clark had to stop his descent when he passed the source of the noise. Moving back up, he saw the bulky mobster that had been pictured on the front page of the _Daily Planet_ that morning. Some technicality had released him onto the streets despite convictions for murdering a witness and his six closest family members. 

He screamed again and tried to back away from Superman, only to discover this was hard to do when wrapped in multiple strands of cable, hanging upside down, and fifty floors up. Clark knew what he would find, but followed the bindings on the man to a single, thick cable. This cable traced back to the roof, where a caped figure in black was securing the equipment on the underside of a black, mechanical offspring of a hang glider and helicopter. Clark now knew better than to ignore Batman’s equipment, so he kept Batman between it and him as he landed. 

“So, Batman, what are you doing?” Striving for a pleasantly curious tone, Clark felt he missed it by several marks. Clark decided he was going to take acting lessons if he had to keep forcing his voice to lie about his emotions like this. 

“What does it look like?” Or maybe he could learn to make a growl call people an idiot like Batman and not worry about hiding his emotions. 

“It looks like you are about to fly off in that contraption with a mobster hanging from the bottom. But that can’t be what you’re doing, because that could kill said mobster.” All Clark heard in his voice that time was disbelief. 

“Only if I decide to fly him into something.” Clark didn’t let himself think about how good those eyes looked when amused; there was a man’s life at stake here. 

“Or he might just have a heart attack to spite you.” 

“He has a very healthy heart; it’s the conscious that’s often lacking in mob trigger men.” 

“Are you a licensed cardiologist?” A joke to stop Clark from wishing Batman could at least be bothered to look at him. It looked like Batman was polishing his equipment to keep from having to see Clark. 

“Not licensed, but they had one look over him while in prison.” Wait, was Batman saying he knew enough to be a cardiologist but had never gotten his license or was it a joke? Both possibilities frightened Clark a little. 

“So you checked before you decided on this little activity?” 

“In special cases I check, never know what you might find out. The same report also stated he had a fear of heights.” 

“What do you want him for?” 

“Cases with the same MO in Gotham. Thought the flight home might give him time to reflect on coming clean about things he’s participated in.” Clark knew Batman was right about that, but he couldn’t let it happen. 

“I don’t think I can let you do this.” 

“How do you plan on stopping me?” Conversationally, like if the plan wouldn’t work Batman would offer pointers. Clark needed a plan, one Batman would never think of. 

“Asking nicely?” That got Batman to look up from his equipment. “Let me carry him, it’ll have the same effect and I’ll know he’ll be safe.” 

“I’ll get Gordon to meet you on the roof and take his confession.” Batman touched the device in two places and the cable slid across the roof at an alarming speed. 

Clark leapt for it as he realized Batman had just released the mobster into his custody. Securing the cable in his hands, Clark took to the sky. He almost smacked the mobster into a building when he turned around to look for Batman’s transportation and after that he had to concentrate on his task a little harder. Once out of the city, he went a little faster, but not so fast that Batman couldn’t catch up if he wanted to. 

Gordon and two uniformed cops waited on the roof with a video camera. Clark turned the mobster upright and explained to him that his feet would be back on solid ground as soon as he convinced Gordon he wanted to atone for his past misdeeds. A loop of cable around the mobster’s chest and Clark was able to hold him upright, a foot off the roof, without being in the picture. The cops filmed while the mobster recounted his deeds, begging forgiveness and a ground level cell. 

He ran out of crimes after an hour or so, and Clark lowered him to the roof. He used his strength to break the cables binding the body, as untangling them would probably take the rest of the night. Clark spoke briefly with Commissioner Gordon before flying off. He didn’t go far, just landed next to Batman on the roof he had been observing from. Batman didn’t even acknowledge him until the mobster was inside police headquarters. White lenses tried to burn a hole in Clark, until he was forced to speak. 

“So how did I do?” Clark couldn’t believe what he had just said, it sounded too much like he was asking for Batman’s approval. When he realized he _was_ looking for approval, Clark decided he would have really appreciated advice from the bat-voice right about now. 

“Ask any of the delivery boys in town, they’ll tell you I don’t tip.” 

Somewhere between laughing at the idea of Batman ordering a pizza and getting pissed about being called a delivery boy, Clark made a strangled noise in reply. That got the corners of Batman’s mouth to twitch just a little, like he was amused but hiding it. Was that a Bat-laugh? Clark wondered how to get him to do it again but was distracted by Batman shifting to look down his left arm. Clark followed his gaze and saw his right hand on Batman’s arm. What was that doing there? Batman stepped to his right and Clark forced the hand to let him. 

“Tonight’s truce was because I was in your city. It’s over.” 

Batman dropped off the roof and Clark let him. Didn’t fly after him, didn’t follow him with x-ray, just kicked off and returned to Metropolis. That city was quiet and he gratefully landed on his couch. **Well, Lois’s plan was a bust!** With a cheerful sarcasm the bat-voice returned. **He doesn’t even want you to touch his armor, and you don’t have the guts to follow him around caressing his chin. Can we go with a better plan now?** Clark saw his cell phone on the coffee table and reached for it. He had to talk to somebody about this. He scrolled through his saved numbers and tried to figure out who he wanted to talk with. Lacking a better idea, he called Ollie. The phone was about to go to voice mail when he answered. 

“Hey. What’s up?” 

“No emergency, just wanted to talk. You busy?” They still used the cell phones to communicate, but had decided that Batman was probably right. No names at all, no specifics about where they were or what they were doing unless they needed backup immediately. 

“No, just dropped off a package and waiting around for another.” Green Arrow was on patrol but in-between activities that needed his attention. “So talk, but if I hang up, don’t take it personally.” 

“My personal life is nuts enough without adding imaginary problems to it, thank you.” 

“Do tell! Last I heard you were still pining for the nosey one.” They might need a code after all, because anybody who knew Lois could figure out that that nickname referred to her. 

“I’ve met some new people since then. Went on a date with one, can’t get the time of day from the other. Guess which one I prefer?” Clark didn’t even try to keep his voice light and pleasant like he would have most of the time. 

“You always have to do things the hard way, don’t you?” Amused, but sympathetic. 

“As hard as possible.” Clark blushed at the double meaning of that, glad Ollie wasn’t there to see it. “I wonder if I push them together with all my strength if they will converge into one person.” 

“Maybe, but that person might be only the bad qualities of both.” 

“The way things are going, of course only the bad things would stick around.” Clark paused for a heavy sigh. “How do you seduce somebody who hates you?” 

“Some people can’t be seduced. You have to wait and bide your time, watching for that perfect moment. Yes, some people need watching, like the guy who just went into that Quick-E-Mart. Yep, gun. Bye!” 

Clark opened his ears and listened as Green Arrow stopped the robbery, without feeling the need to dangle somebody off a roof. **He felt the need; he just didn’t have the guts to do it.** Clark shoved away the commentary from the bat-voice and contemplated watching Batman. How long would he be an observer in his own life, waiting for Batman to come around? 

When he was with Batman, he didn’t need Brucie. When he was with Brucie, he didn’t want Batman, he wanted the sex and pleasure Brucie promised. He never really expected Ollie to have answers, especially while on patrol and not able to get all the details, but he felt a little better for having talked about it. Ollie was right, Batman was a watcher. He would watch forever, gathering information and only act when it was necessary. Yes, Batman was a watcher, wasn’t he? 

Placing his phone on the table and stretching his arms, Clark x-rayed his apartment. His apartment had one bedroom, one bathroom, and a kitchen and living area without a dividing wall. He figured the sixteen electronic bugging devices he found scattered around would give the observer four different recordings of each and every thing he did. Clark made a list of the people he knew who were likely, capable, and anal enough to want that much information about him. It was a very short list. 

He focused in on the nearest one and saw no fingerprints or manufacturing stamps. His list of people bugging him got shorter, as Luther Co. branded every tiny thing they made or used. Clark only knew one jackass who could bug his apartment without leaving any trace evidence, and he had admitted he wanted that exasperating jackass to love him. 

Maybe that anal retentive, exasperating jackass hadn’t been listening when he said all that stuff to Lois. When had Batman planted those things? Clark got a sudden mental image of the workman who had met him and Lois at lunch. Hunched over, pot belly, greasy brown hair and brown eyes. If he stood up straight, would he be as tall as Clark? A little padding, a wig, contacts and Batman had just walked right by him? 

Clark took a deep breath before pulling up the internet on his phone. Twenty minutes of searching and all he could find was a Larry Verne who sung funny songs in the sixties. The workman had said the super let him into Clark’s apartment, but had walked to the elevator instead of another apartment. It was easy to accept that Batman knew where Superman slept. What drove Clark up the wall was trying to determine how Batman had figured it out. 

Anger propelled him off the couch and around the apartment, gathering the bugs up. The last one he picked up was different than the others, and he used the puzzle to dispel of some of that anger. It didn’t have any dust on it. All the others had shown signs of being there a lot longer than today, a coating of particles that had floated out of the circulating air and landed on them. Not really the heavy dust that had to be wiped off furniture routinely, as they were all hidden in places that protected them from that kind of dust. Whatever you called it, the last one didn’t have it, which meant they had been planted a while ago. Apparently one had malfunctioned and Batman had replaced it this morning. Except, he had the papers to let him in, based on W.E. buying the building. How had he known about Brucie’s whim? Had he been able to listen in while Clark talked to Lois or did he have a recording to watch still? 

**Forget about what you told Lois, fly-boy. You talk as you come.** Clark felt his face try to flush and drain of color at the same time after hearing that little bat-comment. Unless fear of getting caught made him think about doing it silently, Clark did talk. Not complete sentences or narrative descriptions to be sure, but at some point he would have called out to Brucie or Batman. So Batman knew everything. Knew were Superman slept, and knew whose lips Clark wanted on him. The expensive, untraceable electronic devices in his hand shattered and merged into rubble, as he fought back a new flush. The idea of Batman knowing, watching, maybe touching himself as he watched sent shooting pains of desire through him. 

Clark took to the sky, trying to figure out what he needed to do. _Brucie,_ a smutty voice suggested. **Not that idiot,** demanded the bat-voice. Clark tried to ignore those dueling ideas and thought about what he needed to do to get away from them. He needed someplace free of people where he could stop thinking about them, someplace like the Fortress of Solitude. With relief, he headed north. There were plenty of things there to keep his mind and body occupied and not thinking about them. 

He left all thoughts of Brucie and Batman out in the arctic cold as he stepped into the Fortress. He was going to finish reading that file of Kryptonian literature the AI had prepared for him months ago. As he turned a corner, his blue suit reflected in a crystal and blue eyes were in his mind again. As he fought down the physical need, he considered that maybe he needed a psychiatrist. Or a doctor, maybe he was hormonal or something. It was an expression of the distaste he felt for himself recently, but it did make him consider a new angle. 

Changing directions, he went to the medical bay and had the AI run tests. Disappointed when everything came back normal, he reconsidered the shrink. He needed someone to talk to, but knew it couldn’t be anyone he would ever have to face a second time. At times, embarrassment was stronger than Kryptonite. **And Batman was an expert at using both,** that proud little batgrowly voice smirked. It was so bizarre; burning with a physical need for Brucie while Batman had a voice in his head. 

What would Jor-el think about him chemically castrating his superior Kryptonian physiology so he didn’t feel this anymore? **Idiot,** the bat-voice condescension was back with a vengeance. **You are Kryptonian, your physiology is different and the Jor-el program is more sophisticated and intuitive than the medical AI.**

Clark ran to the room that housed the Jor-el interface and activated it.

“Greetings, my son. What can I do for you?” 

Clark closed his eyes so he could think of it as only a computer program instead of the father it was based on. He considered where to begin and found he had no knowledge of how Kryptonians felt about sex, beyond the biological reproductive imperative. “I met someone, whom I don’t even really like, but my body is going crazy with desire. It doesn’t feel anything like the lust I have experienced before. Is there something else going on here?” 

The program took a really long time to respond, so Clark opened his eyes to see the hologram. It was frowning down at him while it processed information. 

“Jor-el?” He asked to get its attention, but it still took another minute to respond. 

“This is unexpected, my son.” The voice sounded almost like it was hiding something. 

“You say unexpected, not unknown. That means you know what’s going on, you just didn’t plan for it to happen.” 

“Very well-reasoned, Kal-el.” Clark thought maybe Jor-el was trying to distract him with a rare complement, so he was surprised when the hologram continued. “In an effort to ease the process of finding a compatible partner, genetic modification was used to increase the body’s natural ability to recognize potential mates. This process lost favor and was significantly reduced in potency over the generations. Sometimes, when the compatibility or emotional response is particularly significant this process can be reawakened from genetic dormancy.” 

Well, his ‘emotional response’ to meeting Brucie had been significant, but not an experience he cared to repeat. The majesty and awe of Batman taking out Composite Superman, now that was something deserving of a repeat performance. **Wait, repeat and process, the chosen vocabulary was important.** “Process? As in progressively increasing need instead of just a spark of attraction?” 

“Yes. Every time you give into your attraction, it will get stronger until you have no choice but to form a life bond. Under no circumstances should you have sex with this human.” **I told you you’d regret having sex with Brucie,** smirked the batty voice. ”This planet was chosen, in part, because of the convergent evolution that allowed these humans to look so much like us. It is natural that you should physically desire one of them. It is just a physical attraction that can be broken, because she is not worthy of your mind. Someone who holds your mind will attract you with a force you cannot deny. And that is a distraction that should be avoided at all costs.” 

“Ah.” Came out of Clark’s mouth as he processed this little tidbit. He couldn’t imagine why a process that left you spending your life with a person you didn’t like wouldn’t be popular. “If I do have sex with the human, what will happen?” 

“Any enjoyment you experience will only confirm your compatibility and reinforce your need proportionally.” Clark closed his eyes to keep from frying the hologram with his heat vision. Brucie was an embarrassment, but the man did know what to do with his body **and everybody else’s**. Unless Clark suddenly came up pregnant, there was no way he was going to spend the rest of his life with bewildering Brucie. 

“How do I break this physical bond after having had the sex?” He could feel Jor-el frowning at him and kept his eyes closed. 

“Remember it is only the body that wants her. You can try to find someone who looks like her, as repeat exposure may make you insensitive to that body type. Find whatever distracts you, but do not go to her again. Numerous repetitions of the sexual experience without the culmination of the life bond will invoke a level of need and possessiveness that can strip away all thought. Fortunately, the physical bond will lessen if it is not acted upon.” 

“What about the mental bond you mentioned? How does that differ from the physical need?” 

“The mental bond is much more subtle than the physical. You will come to sense her emotions and be able to locate her by instinct alone. The physical bond needs sexual activity, the mental relishes challenges and intellectual compatibility. It is often described as having that person’s voice in your head at all times, giving you their reactions to stimuli. These will not truly be her thoughts, only how you believe she will respond. This low level telepathy will grow stronger with each moment you spend together.” 

**Crap!** The exasperated grimace came from the Bat-voice in his head, the voice of Batman, in his head. Crap, shit and fuck, Clark thought with an unusual savagery. 

“What if a second person holds my mind?” 

“That would be unprecedented. Perhaps you need both humans to compensate for their inability to master both mind and body.” 

“How do I break the mental bond?” 

“Kal-el, be warned. This is a once in a lifetime occurrence. When she dies, you may burn again, but it will never be this consuming again. Break the bond only after careful consideration.” 

What was there to consider? If Batman and Brucie had been one person, Clark could have chased him. But the two were so different, like matter and antimatter. Batman hated him, so breaking the bond was Clark’s only option. He couldn’t begin to explain this to Jor-el, so Clark had to wait until the hologram finally decided to continue. 

“You should consider bringing her here, for all her days. Then, when you want to see her, she will be outside of this primitive time. She will stay alive as long as you. Otherwise, you should remove yourself from this timeline until she dies, for death is the only way to break the bond.” 

**Oh, yeah. Run and hide from me. That will prove how much better you are than I am.** Taunted the Bat-voice, managing to significantly increase Clark’s ire. 

“It would have been nice to know about all this before it happened!” **All the crap Jor-el put you through over these years, and this is what you yell at him about?** The Bat-voice’s condescending question was hard to ignore, but Clark succeeded. 

The hologram looked offended. “It is a rare situation, one that I could not have foreseen.” 

“Whatever!” Clark growled as he switched off the machine. At least sparring mentally and physically with Batman for the rest of time would give him something to do until Brucie was ready to ‘straighten his trousers.’ Just how long could Brucie and Batman be locked in the Fortress together before Batman killed Brucie out of self-defense? Could he even lock up a man who seemed able to disappear at will? 

He could, and would stay out of Gotham. That much was obvious, but what else could he do? He couldn’t hide in the Fortress until Batman died, all his other friends and loved ones would be dead too. It was just a matter of control. He had worked for control all of his life, this time it was a matter of learning what to control. He could, and would do whatever was necessary to find that control once again. 

sB _Sb_ Bs


	4. Kal makes a discovery.

Clark learned to control his dreams and sexual fantasies. It was a slow process but he felt it was his only option. When Brucie showed up, Clark forced himself to wake up before things got out of hand. As his body figured this out, it quit offering him clearly detailed images of what he would like to do to Brucie. Batman’s appearance meant he had to pull up the anger and embarrassment he felt around that man to fight off the desire. If they both showed up at the same time, he forced himself to dream about flying away from them.

Eventually, he began to dream of flying almost all the time. He loved flying dreams, as this was a dream he could make come true the next day. Hiding behind a large tree was weird, but that was where the reoccurring flight dreams started to take him. Weird, but not worth forcing himself out of the dreams and some much needed sleep. So Clark let it go and a few nights later found himself sitting comfortably on a large branch of that tree. Time passed where he was only aware of the tree, until he returned to Metropolis and woke to the dawn light. Curious, but he was sleeping well despite the dreams, so they weren’t important. 

The dreams expanded after a while and he became aware of someone sleeping near the tree he perched in. Using his x-ray he watched the steady rise and fall of a man asleep. If the man had a bed or did anything except float in midair, none of the details penetrated Clark’s dream state. Was his dream trying to tell him to find somebody to sleep with? Fine, he was bisexual and lonely, no need for a dream to tell him that. With each dawn he awoke in his bed and dealt with real life. 

Occasionally, Clark would be grumpy and short. He absolutely refused to find any correlation between these bad days and lonely nights when the sleeping man, a night owl, went to bed just before Clark had to wake up. He knew better than to think about his dreams when awake (one thirty second fantasy two weeks ago now prevented him from using the copier without having to wipe off imaginary Brucie butt prints). So he doubled his workload at the Planet and patrolled longer than he needed to. 

Distance and activity would get Brucie out of his life. Then he could focus on figuring out what to do with the increasingly sarcastic and caustic Bat-voice in his head. Right now, he was staying out of Gotham and not listening to news about that individual, which only pissed off the Bat-voice. **Find out all the information you can before you decide if anyone is an enemy or friend,** it told him. Advice that he did not take, as the Bat-voice probably just wanted to connect with its source or something. 

When six solid months had gone by without dreaming about the only man who could pull off sexy while stone stupid, Clark tried to celebrate. A nice meal with the JL was followed by a night of acute loneliness and a late entrance from sleeping man. Getting over Brucie didn’t feel like an accomplishment, it felt like he was missing out on something that only happened once in a lifetime. He pushed that thought aside the next morning, like he so often did anymore. 

As proof of his recovery, Clark even agreed to a double date with Ollie and two of his female friends on Halloween. Everything was going fine, until the beginning of October when the sleeping man didn’t show up at all. A week alone, without the calming vision and meditative sound of working lungs. He should have been glad for any change in the repetitive dreams; instead he found quality sleep now demanded the presence of the sleeping man. 

The whole week he was agitated, angry, and aggressive. The dreams took him there anyway, waiting for the sleeping man. As he settled into bed that Saturday night, Clark was sure it would be just as pointless as sleeping had been the rest of the week. Instead, before he could even touch down in the tree, the sound of the sleeping man filled his ears. 

He was so relieved that he had to tell the sleeping man how much he had missed him. The Bat-voice started speaking; something about that not making any sense, but it was really easy to ignore that voice in a dream. Clark had a vague physical sensation but it wasn’t important enough to register. It must have made a noise, because the sleeping man was now awake, crouched and ready to fight. Clark had to return his vision to normal to see the face of his dream man. 

“Clark? Is something wrong?” The voice was deep with sleep but more alert than it normally was. Normal vision confirmed the identity provided by the voice. 

As Clark stared at Brucie, he realized three things at the same time. He was in his boxers, he was covered in glass from the balcony door he had just walked through, and he was in Brucie’s bedroom. This meant he was awake. How could he be awake, in another city? Brucie moved off the bed to walk toward Clark. He was naked, and a painful looking purple and yellow bruise worked from his left armpit to his right hip. His dreams would never make up an unexpected detail like that, so Clark was defiantly awake. He was so confused he turned to Brucie for answers. 

“Brucie, are we in Gotham?” Brucie’s face was approaching thoughtful when Clark heard him step on the broken glass. 

Brucie didn’t seem to notice but it spurred Clark into action. He zipped to the balcony, shook the glass off of himself and returned to pick Brucie up and set him on the bed. Gently he brushed glass off of Brucie’s bare feet and checked any cuts for glass inside of them while he rambled. “I’m sorry about the door, I’ll replace it. I could pay for it or fix it, whichever works for you. Paying for it might be a better idea, because I’d have to come here to fix it. I know we are in Gotham, but I don’t remember how I got here. Actually, I do, but I thought the flight here was a dream. If this is real, then there is a good chance that those other dreams were real!” 

“So, you sleep-fly often?” Brucie’s voice was back to normal, evidence of the man’s acceptance of not ever understanding what was going on. 

His feet were as clean as could be, only three little cuts that would require ointment and no other cuts of significance. Clark found he couldn’t let go of Brucie’s feet and had to fight back the urge to suck on his toes. Apparently he needed physical contact worse than he ever had in his life. How long had he been flying to Gotham while asleep? Ever since the dreams began? He had thought he had gotten over Brucie, only to find out his body had been getting its fill of Brucie without consulting his brain. How was he going to explain this to the brain dead object of his desire? 

“Right, sleep-flying.” Clark looked up from the feet he couldn’t let go of, the better to explain what was going on, and remembered. He remembered how beautiful Brucie was in the moonlight, thick hair tousled. Clark’s insides constricted as he understood that he was wearing boxer shorts and kneeling in front of a very naked Brucie. 

His body chose that moment to remind him of what to do in such a situation. His mouth was open to say something, but it wasn’t important anymore so he leaned forward and took the tip of Brucie’s cock in his mouth. He had never done this before, but he must have done something right as Brucie responded quickly. He tried to remember what Brucie had done to him in that dining room so long ago but his mind was refusing to participate. **Conscientious objector to stupidity,** Bat-voice said, **and this is a stupid as it gets**. 

Instinct and experimentation would just have to make do then. He finally let go of Brucie’s feet to pull him closer. Brucie wrapped his legs around Clark’s back, they were long and so was what Clark now held in his mouth. Clark licked and tasted, tried wrapping his tongue around Brucie and squeezing a little. This got Brucie’s hands gripping Clark’s hair, and Clark needed more contact with Brucie. So Clark repeated the tongue squeeze while fondling Brucie’s balls. Brucie was leaning toward Clark, like he wanted more contact too. Brucie gave a little moan that sounded like he was in pain, but before Clark could lessen the pressure of his tongue or fingers, Brucie was pulling him tighter. 

Brucie didn’t mind a little pain, it seemed, but Clark’s last vestiges of self-control kept him from moving past his current level of pressure. For a long moment, Clark was oblivious to anything outside of making Brucie happy. The constant monitoring for trouble faded away as he waited for Brucie to find completion. Clark turned his squeezing tongue around Brucie’s shaft and Brucie came in his mouth. When the salty fluid stopped, Clark found he wanted more and only let go of the penis because he had to ask a question. 

“What did you say, Brucie?” 

“I said, it will take a few minutes for it to fill up again.” 

Clark flushed as he realized he had been trying to suck more fluid out of a spent penis. Brucie was pulling on him, so Clark did as the hands directed. He was happy to find they pulled him into the bed, so he could lie on his left side facing Brucie. His hands were fondling Brucie while his legs were trying to see how many times they could wrap around Brucie’s. Clark’s penis was trying to get his attention; it didn’t want to be forgotten while Clark talked to Brucie. 

“Not that I mind, but what brought this on? I thought we had our little bit of fun?” 

“Brucie, that wasn’t fun. It was mind-blowing, what you did to me that night.” Clark’s right hand was gently combing fingers through Brucie’s hair. “It was a distraction that I didn’t need, so I tried to put it behind me. But apparently, I do need it. I need you. Would you be willing to move in with me? You could run Wayne Enterprises just as well from Metropolis.” 

Brucie blinked several times at that, before he found the words to reply with his leer firmly in place. “All my stuff is already here. You can just call and see what I am doing when you have free time. I’ll clear my schedule for you, anytime. Especially if you keep doing things like that.” 

Confused, Clark had to look down at what had Brucie’s attention. Had his left hand been working Brucie’s penis for this whole conversation? Did it matter now, as Brucie was hard again? Clark slipped out of his boxers and rolled onto his hands and knees, wondering if Brucie could figure out what to do without assistance. Brucie started lubing up; the action informing Clark that this was one area where he actually knew what was going on. Clark was more than happy to defer to his expertise for the rest of the night. The morning would be the time for thinking. **And regrets,** Bat-voice added with a sarcastic happiness. 

sB _Sb_ Bs

Clark had been in desperate need of sleep when he got there, but eventually the dawn light crept into Brucie’s room. This recharged him sufficiently for another go at Brucie, who surprised Clark with being up for it. A quick cleanup necessitated turning down Brucie’s offer of showing him how to use the shower. Clark also had to borrow clothes in order to fly back to Metropolis. He didn’t run into many people in the sky, but he was too modest to risk it. Brucie watched him leave, but Clark managed not to fly back to the irritating man for another round. If he had asked about the bruise, he would have had to trace it with his fingers and tongue, touching Brucie, and would never leave that bedroom. 

The Bat-voice was right, as usual, he already regretted last night. And, apparently, he was going to have to come up with another plan for distancing himself from Brucie. What had possessed him to ask Brucie to move in? Forget Batman, how long could he stand Brucie until he had to kill him? Maybe Jor-el’s halfhearted advice would be some use after all. Clark was loathe to treat a human being as a cheap substitute for Brucie, but it might be the only way. Except, he’d never met anyone remotely like Brucie, not even physically. Maybe he would have better luck while actively looking, as it was his only hope. 

sB _Sb_ Bs

Since Clark had to lock himself in the fortress now, to sleep without flying to Brucie, he was exhausted. The trip north, the poor sleep without the comfort of Brucie’s presence, the resurgence of erotic dreams, and the flight back to Metropolis, all combined to make him more tired than he had ever been in his life. He took to eating while he worked, so he could spend his lunch hour flying toward the sun for energy. It just didn’t seem to help that much, especially compared to how a mention of Batman kicked his brain into gear. 

A growl from the Bat-voice in his head was all it took for him to be awake all night wondering what that man was up to. The last doughnut at work would have him wondering if Batman ate junk food. Two thoughts later and his mind was showing him enjoying a picnic with Batman (a highly improbable scenario), quickly followed by him making a picnic of codpiece-free Batman. 

Such complex scenarios were not necessary for Clark to have to fight down an erection. A good breeze could hit him the wrong way and he would be thinking about Brucie’s surprisingly gentle caresses, while a kick or punch from a desperate thug had him thinking about how rough Batman would be. So much of his time was wasted in fighting down erections that he was spending two and three hours masturbating in the shower at the fortress when he was finally alone. 

No matter what he fantasized about, completion evaded him until Brucie showed up. He even found he could start with Batman, but it always came down to having made-for-sex Brucie. He searched everywhere he went, but never found anybody that called to him like Brucie, not even similarly muscled guys. Ollie wasn’t too different than Brucie, so Clark tried to fantasize about him instead. All he got for his trouble was imaginary Brucie’s high pitched laughter, until he had pulled the source of that laughter to him. 

None of the high end perfume shops the world over could help him find that spicy smell that Brucie had, so he couldn’t even immunize himself from that smell. Clark was an optimist, but found his hope was running short in this instance, as a good part of him wanted to be in this trap. Clark had set the AI the task of finding other methods of killing the physical bond, but it hadn’t found anything so far. Locking himself in the fortress until both Batman and Brucie died was looking more attractive all the time, except he had no idea how he would explain it to his loved ones. 

Lois was the only one who knew that he had slept with a man; let alone which man in particular. She had kept it a secret so far, but he was waiting for it to come out any day now. He just hoped she wouldn’t feel the need to call his parents and tell them. He was at a complete loss on how to even broach the subject of homosexuality, let alone admit that he might be bisexual. And what in the world could he possibly do to explain the whole ‘dormant Kryptonian genetic compatibility process’ hooking him up with a fop and flying rat? 

Rather than discuss any of this with Ollie, who no doubt would find it as funny as Lois had, Clark tried to back out of the upcoming Halloween double date. Tried to convince Ollie that Impulse would make a better match for the girl. Told him he had to work that night, patrol, anything and everything he could think of to get out of it. Ollie recognized each rationale as an excuse and had a sound reason for rejecting each one. Finally, on the night in question, a determined Ollie showed up at Clark’s apartment with a garment bag over his shoulder. 

Clark came home twenty minutes later, looking haggard and busy. Dramatically slapping his forehead, Clark apologized for having forgotten to get his costume and that he could not possibly go to the party in street clothes. Ollie replied with an over the top, dramatic sigh as he sagged onto the arm of the couch. Once there he comically remembered the garment bag, and unzipped it so Clark could see the contents. Faced with the choice of telling Ollie the whole truth or going to the party, Clark slipped on the Green Arrow costume. He then had to show Ollie how to get the red cape to stay in the Superman outfit Ollie had purloined from Clark. 

Music made the walls bounce as Ollie pulled a reluctant Clark through the party to find their dates. The girl he introduced as Pearl was dressed as Roxy Rocket, but it was Jenifer’s costume that had Clark trembling in his borrowed boots. Jenifer, it seemed, was Pearl’s cousin from Gotham and had come dressed as Catwoman. Clark had to profess his ignorance as to what was going on in that city, but not why. Ollie didn’t have Kryptonite, so he couldn’t get a good answer out of Clark as to why Clark was ignoring the existence of an entire city. The glint in his eye expected Batman was the source, a thought Clark avoided clarifying. 

Finally, a disgruntled Ollie had asked Pearl for a dance, though none of their wiggling matched the beat of the music. Jenifer spent forty-five minutes recounting the stories that had been in the papers about Catwoman, and Clark paid close attention. Part of him was afraid he’d wind up lusting after Catwoman as well as his other favorite Gothamites. The rest of him was desperate for news and perked up considerably whenever she mentioned Batman. 

As the conversation wound down, Ollie and Pearl stopped making out on the dance floor and returned to the table with drinks for the four of them. Pearl asked how a struggling reporter had managed to befriend a millionaire like Ollie without sounding too snotty. Clark was stuttering through an abridged version of what had brought them together when the universe stopped. A heady, spicy, sexy smell hit Clark’s nostrils even as he realized the only person in the universe that still moved was behind him. Clark could only inhale, drown in that scent, one he shouldn’t have been able to smell over the throng of people at this party. The only voice in the universe finally spoke, allowing a distraction from the odor. 

“Tony!” 

“Bruce!” A happy voice, insignificant, until it offered Bruce a hug and a loud, wet, sloppy kiss. Clark moved out into the still universe, unsure of why his secrets meant he had to go around those people. He had to protect Brucie from the bastard daring to touch him. **Brucie likes to be touched that way** , interjected the sanity of the Bat-voice. Clark tried to reach for that sanity, only to find it was slipping away like Batman in a shadow. 

“My board tells me you don’t want to sell us that biometric security upgrade of yours. What’s that about?” Clueless Brucie, flirting a little but only because his board told him to. Brucie wouldn’t cheat on Clark like that without good reason. **It’s not cheating if you’re not together.** Clark vaguely wondered how he could ever have been distracted by the creator of that Bat-voice when Brucie was so much sexier. 

“Maybe I was holding it ransom so you would come to me?” That voice tried for a playful flirt but was far too sincere for Clark’s taste. 

“Please Tony, you know all you have to do is ask. I bet we could even find an empty bathroom stall, if you wanted.” 

Secrets be hanged, Clark started shoving people out of his universe as he tried to get to Brucie. His Brucie, whose seductive voice seemed far too eager to go to the bathroom with this Tony character. 

“No, that’s not what I want, but you know that. You’ve always known what I wanted and so you made sure never to offer it to me.” Tony’s voice was sad, but his hand was on Brucie’s arm as they faced each other, leaning on the bar. 

“Brucie, is this guy bothering you?” Clark reached them, oblivious to the muttering partygoers behind him. 

Tony looked familiar, despite being dressed like a burglar. Clark felt it was an appropriate costume, as the idiot was trying to steal what clearly belonged to somebody else. Annoyance and confusion fluttered through Brucie’s eyes, almost like he was trying to figure out what Clark was talking like that for. That wasn’t the Brucie that Clark knew, but he was too focused on his rival to think about it. Tony glanced confusion between them before turning to talk to Brucie. 

“Your toy for the evening?” 

“No, actually. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a great lay, but I didn’t know he was here. Or invite him into this conversation.” These words included a frown at Clark. Brucie reached up to straighten his tie, which dislodged Tony’s arm. It dimly penetrated Clark’s awareness that Brucie wasn’t in a costume. The Bat-voice wanted to know why, but only that insignificant voice cared. “Clark, we were talking business, so call me later.” 

“I will, Brucie. But since we’re both here, why don’t we dance?” The words were a question, but the voice coming from Clark’s mouth made it into an order that brought Tony to his feet. He squared off with Clark, but called over his shoulder to Brucie. 

“Brucie, is this guy bothering you? He’s starting to bother me.” 

Brucie responded by shoving his body between them and placing a hand on each of their chests. “Look guys, I just stopped by on my way through to ask Stark about work stuff. The three of us can get together later, and find something to do other than fight. I know positions for three that can give you the bends! I’ll call you both, but I’ve got a plane to catch now. Clark, why don’t you go over there and see what Superman wants?” 

Clark was embarrassed; his Brucie was so stupid he couldn’t even remember Clark was Superman! Except Tony Stark was looking behind him too, so Clark slowly, suspiciously turned to look. Ollie was wearing his shield with two confused criminals draped on his arms. **Explain this to Ollie, I dare you!** The damn useless, uninvited Bat-voice continued to comment. It was still inconsequential when compared to Brucie, so Clark turned back to him. Tony caught Clark’s bewildered look and glanced around too. When neither of them spotted Brucie, Tony shrugged at Clark. 

“Brucie does that to people.” Dismissing Clark completely, Tony sauntered over to Catwoman with a beer and a suggestive smile. Clark would deal with him next time he tried anything, for now he had to find Brucie. 

In the mass of limos behind the warehouse where the party was, Brucie had managed to find his limo. He looked rather annoyed as he waited for the driver to come running up, muttering apologies as he straightened his suit and put out his cigarette. The impromptu crap game continued without him, but he was so busy apologizing for taking part that he forgot to unlock the door. This allowed Clark the time he needed to put his hand where Tony’s had been minutes before, and prevent Brucie from going away. There was a slow blink, and then vacant eyes looked at Clark. The words, the tone, the smile were all suggestive and directed at Clark. Clearly Brucie had only been flirting to get Tony’s business, so Clark happily smiled back. 

“Hey, Clark. I do have a flight to Gotham scheduled, so I need to go. You could come to the airport, to make sure I, uh, get off.” Brucie hadn’t finished licking those lips when Clark clamped down on them. 

Every time he tried to break away to breathe or something, Clark would pull him back to where he wanted him. Brucie fell back before this onslaught, only to be stopped by the limo behind him. Thus trapped between a rock and a hard-on, Brucie responded with aggression as he tried to take control of this encounter. Jerking his head away and down, he bit Clark on the neck, hard enough to hurt his perfect teeth. Clark melted into the sensation and Brucie slipped out the other side. Bereft, Clark oriented on Brucie and moved toward him. 

Brucie pointed to the limo and the driver recovered from his shock enough to open the door. “Backseat, baby blues.” 

My Brucie is planning on running. The lusty, possessive voice in his head that mentioned this sounded like the Kal who showed up when he was exposed to red or black kryptonite. It was a warning sign that came when he was too far gone to heed it. Clark moved over to take the door away from the driver and bowed to Brucie. “Your baby blues first.” 

There was a moment of hesitation that convinced Clark his Kal voice had been right. Where had stupid Brucie thought he could go to get away from Superman? Probably back to that Tony bastard. Kal growled at that thought, which caused Brucie to stop and turn back with one foot hanging out of the car. Kal grabbed that foot and gave it a gentle shove, a suggestion that Brucie get the rest of the way in. Brucie sprawled backward, mostly on the limo seat. 

Clark realized he had used too much strength and tried to take control before he hurt Brucie, only to have the sound of that sloppy kiss from Tony echo in his head. A car door closed behind him as Kal covered Brucie’s body with his own, floating just a little so he could move without worrying about the movements of the car. The gentle finger tracing Kryptonian love poems onto Brucie’s chest surprised the human. 

“Brucie, I know you don’t understand this. But you cannot let everybody kiss you like that.” 

Brucie cleared his throat a little. “Who, Stark? He’s an old fuck-buddy I occasionally work with. I’m a firm believer in mixing business with pleasure.” 

“He wants more than sex from you.” 

“The joke’s on him, sex is all I’m good for.” Brucie had managed to find purchase, as he shoved and Kal had to roll with him or let go of him. Letting go was not an option, and now Brucie was on top of him as they floated between the limo seats. “Now, my Super-Green Arrow, do you have a straight shaft for me?” 

Kal moaned as he struggled with the unfamiliar pants he wore and Brucie only watched him. “Brucie, you can only have it if you have one for me.” 

“I have a hard one for you, yes.” Brucie pulled himself up to sit with his ass tantalizingly close to Kal’s need and slowly opened his pants to show his growing erection. Kal had just pulled his out when Brucie decided to talk, like he had no idea invulnerable Superman was about to hurt himself if he didn’t get some relief. Fortunately, Brucie was turned on enough that he couldn’t help but fondle Kal’s dick behind his back as he spoke. “Thing is Clark, if I was a girl I’d be a slut. I go through batteries, hookers, boyfriends and girlfriends the way most people go through Kleenex when they have the flu. It doesn’t take much to get my engine going; I’ve been with people and objects you wouldn’t believe. I can get hard watching animals fuck.” 

With his hands hidden behind his back, Brucie’s skilled hand job felt even more erotic. The words didn’t seem important when compared to those hands but Clark would consider them later, maybe. If he could get past the sensation of touching Brucie. Being with Brucie. Smelling Brucie. Fucking Brucie. 

“I think you’re a good guy. I think you want love and children, two things you can’t have with me. Maybe you should find somebody else?” 

Kal was back, growling as he took control. How dare the idiot tell him to find somebody else! Didn’t he know how special it was to belong to the House of El? Kal flipped over and laid Brucie down in the floor of the limo. A graceful rotation of his position and Kal was lowering his erection into Brucie’s mouth. The cool lips welcomed him, but it wasn’t until he took Brucie’s penis in his mouth that his erection got tongued. Kal frowned around his eyes and gave Brucie’s balls an experimental fondling. Brucie responded by taking Kal’s tip into his mouth. 

Kal’s possession had chosen the wrong time to assert himself! Jerking his head away from Brucie’s penis, Kal growled down at him. “Come on Brucie. I know you give better head than that!” 

“So do you. Fair’s fair.” Kal arched up and turned around to growl in Brucie’s face. 

“Fair! You dare talk about fair. You admit to only being good at one thing and then you seek to deny it to me! Me, last of the House of El!” 

Brucie rested his right hand on Kal’s face, thumb tracing the lips. “No baby, I would never deny you! I mean, I don’t deny anybody. It’s just at the party, you seemed a little possessive. I was trying to tell you that I’m no good at that kind of thing, so if you want more than hot, nasty sex, you should look elsewhere.” 

Kal found the words insignificant, the tone pleasing, and then Kal found he was sucking on Brucie’s thumb in his mouth. His need was so great it would snap him in half if Brucie didn’t do something about it. 

“Fine Brucie. For now, our deal will be I get you off if you get me off. Fair?” 

“Very fair.” There was an intake of breath, like Brucie was about to say more. But words never came, as Kal had resumed his 69 position. 

Kal worked Brucie’s cock, and soon found himself drowning in the pleasure Brucie was providing. Kal was aware that the limo had stopped outside the airport but wanted to prolong this. Brucie couldn’t have heard the airport sounds through the insulated doors of the limo, but he chose to do something to Kal that had him exploding into Brucie’s mouth. Brucie reciprocated and Kal drank every last drop of the fluid provided, which allowed some sense to return to his head. 

Clark let Brucie out of his mouth, and groaned as he rolled onto the seat. Shoving himself back into the Green Arrow costume, Clark tried to figure out how he was going to explain the possessive need that was bringing out Kal’s arrogance. Risking a glance at Brucie, Clark saw he was already back in his suit and looking like a million. Brucie had even managed to find a water bottle that he cracked open and drank from before knocking on the divider between him and the driver. 

The driver only lowered the divider a crack, like he was afraid of what he would see if he lowered it any more. Clark blushed, acutely aware of the display they had put on in the parking lot. And the party, the party for which Clark would have to give an explanation to Ollie. The driver must have said something, but only Brucie’s voice responding seemed to matter to Clark anymore. 

“Give the porter my luggage and then you can take the Green Arrow anywhere he wants to go.” Brucie leaned over to give Clark a wet kiss on the forehead. “Think about what I said, not what I did. If you can.” 

A bawdy wink and Brucie was gone. Clark knew he should get out of here and get some sleep while he was satiated. Find Ollie and return his costume, maybe explain some things. Determine if Ollie even wanted his costume back, considering what Clark had just done while wearing it. Explain to the driver he wasn’t really the Green Arrow, just so that guy wouldn’t go around talking about what had happened on the way to the airport. Slow thoughts on what else he should be doing filtered through his mind, but Clark was still lying there when the driver rolled the divider down just a little more. 

“Where to, Sir?” 

Clark sighed and gave an address one block east of his apartment. He could walk that far and he felt no need for the driver to know where he lived. It was a really long drive back into Metropolis, or maybe it just seemed that way as he fought back arousal at Brucie’s lingering scent. Or the remembrance of what Brucie could do with his hands behind his back. Limitations could make things a lot more creative, so what could Brucie do with his hands cuffed to a bed? Did the driver know of a store where Clark could get handcuffs or did Brucie already have some of his own? 

No, Clark told himself sternly, I am not masturbating in the back of a limo! Forcing his attention out of his head, Clark listened to the world for an emergency to distract himself with. Instead he found the steady heartbeat that promised a good night’s sleep. A slight hum told Clark that Brucie had a computer in front of him, probably losing at solitaire. There were soft footsteps, then a honey sweet voice spoke and pulled Clark into a sitting position. 

“Mr. Wayne?” If she said the wrong thing, this limo would find itself without a roof as Kal tracked down his Brucie. “The pilot has clearance for takeoff whenever you are ready.” 

“Well strap in, sweetness! I’ve got a party to get to.” That beautiful voice held no malice or command, and just a suggestion of desire. But Clark was listening to the body as well and didn’t hear desire increasing the heartbeat. Brucie always flirted, with everyone it seemed. He would have to break that habit if he was going to be with Clark. That thought caused Clark to sigh and sag into the seat. 

“Naturally, Mr. Wayne. I’ll tell the pilot to hurry.” Soft footfalls as she left and Brucie turned back to his computer. The limo was safe for the moment, as Brucie wasn’t about to seduce his stewardess. Staring at the recently spared limo roof, Clark found himself muttering out loud. 

“What am I going to do about that man?” 

The Bat-voice answered him, unexpected and almost useful. **Screw the fortress’s AI, ask Batman for help.** Clark’s body was ready to sleep as he listened to Brucie fly away, but now his brain was fully awake. What would Batman demand in exchange for his assistance? What would he do with the information he discovered? Would it be worth it? Would he ever show Clark what his dick really looked like, instead of forcing Clark to make it a duplicate of Brucie’s in his mind’s eye? 

When an exhausted Clark managed to stumble home an hour later, he found a seriously pissed Ollie waiting on him. Clark changed out of the green and into sweats. He sat at the kitchen table and drank his way through a pitcher of tea and four glasses of ice water while trying to explain it to Ollie. Well, the part about Brucie anyway. He wasn’t yet ready to admit what the other Gothamite in his life was doing to him. When he finished talking, Ollie took a contemplative swallow of his third beer. 

“Cheer up Clark. Just think how much worse it would be if you had the hots for Batman!” Ollie’s tone was highly amused, but Clark thought he might have dented his table as his forehead impacted on it. “Oh, my, God!” 

Once Ollie stopped laughing sufficiently for Clark to resume his explanation, Clark was on his second beer and wishing he could get drunk. Really, really drunk. On something other than Brucie. Ollie was highly amused but hiding it rather well when he finally finished Clark’s beer supply and left. He was muttering something about having to get a new Green Arrow suit as he left, but with enough effort Clark managed not to hear it. 

Too exhausted to fly north for the night, Clark decided to risk a shower. His eidetic memory that had served him so well for most of his life, chose to betray him as he stepped into the shower. As clear and perfect as when it had actually happened, he saw Brucie sprawled across his huge bed in Wayne Manor. An expensive silk sheet partially covered Brucie as Clark stood beside the bed, pulling on his boxers. 

“Send me the repair bill for the balcony doors, Brucie. I don’t know how to explain last night, but I’ve got to go now or I’ll be late for work.” 

“Go in those boxers and you’ll get a raise from your boss. Maybe even more money.” 

“You’re right! I don’t have any more clothes here. I don’t normally fly naked.” 

“I would!” 

“Well, yes, you would. But I think you might be more hedonistic than anyone I’ve ever met.” 

“He don, me don, you don?” 

“What?” 

“I don’t know, you’re the one who said it.” Brucie rolled his eyes at Clark’s obtuseness. 

“Hedonistic?” At Brucie’s nod, Clark understood. “It means pleasure seeking without considering moral implications.” 

“If I was as bad as all that, I wouldn’t tell you to take your pick of my clothes. I’d insist you fly home naked for the world to enjoy. Instead, I’m just going to offer to explain some of the more special features of the shower.” This leer came with wiggling eyebrows and Clark found himself leaning down to kiss Brucie. Exerting the tiny bit of control still available to him, Clark managed to only kiss Brucie’s forehead. 

“Thank you, but I think I can figure it out.” Clark had speed off to the bathroom before his control was gone. He showered and dried as quickly as he could and still feel clean. He emerged to find Brucie in his housecoat, with a selection of clothes laid out on the recently abandoned bed. Clark turned his back on Brucie to dress, but felt his every movement was watched, and appreciated. He tried to fly out the busted balcony without more touching but Brucie compelled him. Clark reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind Brucie’s ear and pulled the maddening man to him. “God, Brucie! What are you doing to me?” 

“Whatever you want me to.” There was a shrug, but it was the kiss that allowed Clark to ignore those words that might be just a little too true. A beeping from the desk in the corner of the bedroom drew Brucie’s attention and he pulled away. Clark let him go so he could get to Metropolis, ignoring the Bat-voice’s command to find out what was in the desk. He couldn’t be sure, but Clark felt that if he put Brucie back into that bed like he wanted to, he’d be condemned to Brucie for the rest of his life. 

Once past the balcony, Clark turned around to fly backward. He’d never done this before either, but it let him watch Brucie watch him leave. Long after he should have been invisible to normal human sight, Brucie had finally turned away to sit at his desk. Something about the early morning light on Brucie had highlighted his angular face, making him look like he was in deep thought as Clark flew away. An intelligent Brucie was a beautiful thing, and in the shower on Halloween, Clark managed to come to just that pipe dream. 

sB _Sb_ Bs

Clark was tired and drained, but no longer satiated. He wanted to sleep until the dawn light could recharge him. Instead he stood under the cold water and thought about the arctic. He didn’t even trust himself to use the soap; a stray hand, stray thought and he would be as hard as steel again. Giving up on the shower as he felt his will power dwindle, Clark shook the water off and stepped into boxers. Sleeping would be a mistake, so he flopped onto the couch. 

He flipped on the TV and before he could recognize the program as entertainment news he saw the screen behind the anchors. Some famous actress bimbo was plastering herself over his Brucie! They were dancing in a costumed crowd but they were the focus of the camera. Clark was getting hard just from watching Brucie’s side and back move under the cheesy vampire cape he wore. The camera rotated around the dancing couple to show Brucie’s vacant, fanged face. He waved at the camera before planting a fake bite on his partner’s neck. 

“Mine!” Kal was only vaguely aware of the remains of the crushed remote falling out of his hand. 

The need to display the sign of his house had him change into the suit and boots before flying out the window. He made Gotham in record time with an idea of finding Brucie in a downtown club, dancing, flirting, and completely mindless of the fact that he belonged to the House of El. The thumping base of the nightclubs mixed with the pounding of blood in his ears. A jarring, high pitched laugh was just discordant enough to penetrate Kal’s focus on Brucie. 

“Shut up.” Growled a voice in response to that laugh. 

That growl set every synapse in Kal’s brain on fire and he changed course without thought. Kal darted in the destroyed door of some shop too unimportant to notice. Batman absorbed all the light around him as he bound up the Joker’s wrists. Batman turned to the intruder but Kal grabbed him before he could get into a fighting stance. The Joker watched them leave as Batman struggled in Kal’s arms. 

“Let me do the flowers for the wedding. You wouldn’t believe what I can do with lilies!” His voice chased them out into the street before Joker broke down laughing again. 

Batman kept struggling, and started growling out threats. Words didn’t matter to Kal, he just pulled the source of that voice closer. The Bat-voice in his head was silent now, as the real voice was much better than the copy. 

Batman was so hard to hold without crushing that a semblance of thought returned to Kal. He should have found Brucie before Batman, as Brucie would have been easier to contain while he searched for Batman. He needed to stash Batman somewhere but the man was too resourceful. Give him spit and bailing wire and he would invent a taser or something. He knew his city too well, and Kal not well enough to stash him in Gotham. But he need was so great; Kal had to find Brucie soon, so he didn’t have time to take Batman to the Fortress. Kal glanced around to get his bearings and saw a solution, one place close by where Batman would be without resources. 

They were almost there when Batman managed to slip out of his arms and Kal had to drop down and catch him by his leg. Batman folded in half to reach up and try and pry Kal’s fingers off. It was futile, as Kal was much stronger than any human, but incredibly sexy to see. A flash of Brucie’s face dragged Kal’s thoughts away from the image of Batman’s body willingly entwined with his own. He gently laid his captive down in the same patch of woods Batman had blinded him in. As soon as he was released, Batman rolled to his feet and faced Kal in a fighting stance with his hands full of objects. 

“So graceful, so beautiful. People here are blind and stupid if they attack you with guns instead of lips.” 

Batman tensed even more but the firm line of his mouth didn’t change. He was confused by Superman coming on to him but still ready to fight. 

Kal shot him the leer he had learned from Brucie. “Yummy!” 

Batman didn’t move or make any outward sign of distress, but his heart beat pounded in Kal’s ears. Adrenalin had sped it up while he fought to free himself; now it pounded with emotion. Kal didn’t know if it was fear or lust, or both, but he found he didn’t care. 

“Is there something you are trying to tell me, Superman?” Kal marveled at how Batman could make a cliché question sound threatening. 

“This isn’t about Superman.” Kal moved closer to his prey. The creature was unaware that it was his resistance and defiance that made him the ultimate prize. 

“Fine! Not the last scion of the House of El, then.” Batman spat at Kal, intensifying his desirability with every word. “Clark Kent. Reporter for the Daily Planet, raised in Smallville.” 

Kal caressed the exposed jaw. The part of him that had been going crazy trying to guess how Batman figured these things out was so insignificant the he could ignore it easily. 

“Not about him, either.” Blue eyes jumped into Kal’s mind, and he remembered his mission. “Him, yes. I must find him.” 

“Find who? Kent?” At any other time, he would have enjoyed confusing Batman. Now he was irritated that he had to explain when time was so important. 

“No, I have to find Brucie.” 

“What?” Confusion and shock were evident in his higher than normal growl. He clearly thought Kal had lost his mind, and Kal could almost agree. 

“I know! I hate that guy. He’s so empty; he’s like a black hole of intelligence. But the things he did to me had me out of control, begging for more, knowing I could never be satiated.” His thumb was teasing Batman’s surprisingly soft lips. Were there other places on him that were soft and it was just the armor that made him angles and muscles? “It’s irritating when your mind and body are at war. My brain wants you, the challenging, defiant one. My body demands Brucie, for whatever reason, so I have to have you both.” 

Batman spoke around the thumb that was trying to get him to suck on it. His voice was back to its normal register, which told Kal he had calmed down enough to be up to something. “Right. Why don’t you go get Brucie, while I wait here?” 

Kal forced his hand away from Batman’s skin and downward, trailing over armor until it was halted by that armory disguised as a belt. “You’ll just wait here, will you?” 

“Sure. I want to know who Brucie is and what he did to you that is so incapacitating.” In Batman’s voice it sounded logical and almost believable. Clark wanted to believe it, anyway. 

”Yeah,” Kal said with a nod and a grin that both disappeared when he next spoke. “Except I don’t believe you. Given half a chance the next time we met you’ll have a certain rock in your arsenal.” 

The belt was surprisingly hard to break, but it came off with a little more effort. A quick scan of the compartments and Kal pulled out the extra jump line. Batman was running, throwing petty distractions at Kal, smoke, gas, exploding and sharp things. When Kal grabbed him, he used the entire length of cable to bind Batman to a large tree. Kal planted a kiss to the top of his cowl. 

“Just in case that doesn’t hold until I find Brucie, I will be listening to you.” 

Kal shot up and out of the woods to return to the clubs of Gotham. He paused to listen at Batman before the base notes interfered with his hearing. He was just shifting a little against the tree, so Kal started scanning clubs for Brucie’s face. He was halfway through his third club when he realized something was off. He sped back until he could hear Batman over the clubs. Controlled breathing, purposely kept light but coming in fast anyway. Cape no longer swishing over the ground as he shifted against the tree, incredibly light on his feet but his feet were moving. Batman was running. 

Kal growled as he flew after Batman. He didn’t have time for this! He had to find Brucie so the three of them could find a way to ease the turmoil in his soul. Scanning the woods with his x-ray soon found a running figure with lead around his nose and eyes. If Kal could think around certain citizens of Gotham, he would have used Batman’s secrets to confine him in the first place, holding the mask hostage until his return with Brucie. 

Batman lashed out with the broken belt as Kal tried to pin him down. That steel toed boot to the groin would have crippled a human; it just teased Kal into an unexpected arousal. Batman wasn’t above fighting dirty, so Kal responded in kind. Kal was surprised at how much effort it took to get Batman on his back. He had to rely on his brute strength to overpower the skilled man. Kal had to shift as he sat on Batman’s thighs; this wrestling had just encouraged his arousal. 

His body’s need for Brucie still screamed at him, even as his mind pleaded to have the man under him. If he was going to lose his humanity it should at least be for someone worthy. Kal used his frustration to force Batman to fold his arms over the bat on his chest. Kal held them with his left hand as he reached for the mask. Batman knew he was pinned by someone stronger, but he still struggled. Kel felt the mask, wishing his body would accept this man. He sighed and forced his fingers under that tight edge. Electricity flared through his fingers and into his body; Batman had embedded a taser in his mask against forced removal. Kal snorted down at Batman. 

“Well, that tickled.” He ripped the mask off, only to find a second, lead domino mask covering the nose and area around the eyes. Clark had been correct; those irises were beautiful when not bloodshot. Kal grinned. “I think we’ve moved passed having lead between us.” 

“It’ll be Kryptonite, the next ti...” Kal stopped the threat with a rough kiss and felt a different kind of electricity. Hope blossomed that maybe he could do without Brucie after all. Except Batman wasn’t kissing back, though he had stopped struggling. Suddenly, Kal understood why he needed Brucie. He broke the kiss to lay his head on Batman’s shoulder for a moment, only to be reminded of how hard he was. 

He needed Brucie because Brucie wanted him, and he needed to be loved back. His right hand pulled the lead mask off and threw it as far as he could. With a heavy sigh he sat up to see the face now revealed to him. Before he could quite comprehend what he saw he was orgasming in his clothes, without anyone touching his cock. His brain was melting, oozing around in his skull. Between his release, the shock, and the joy, he was having trouble breathing. Batman bucked sideways and shoved him off. Clark was too far gone to do more than make sure he rolled to a stop on his back. 

“If you are quite through…” Batman growled with disgust and anger evident in his voice. He picked up the remains of his armor and equipment before working his computer thing as he stalked away. Clark let him go, because he needed time to recover. Brucie was Batman. How had he missed this? 

Ollie had told him that night of the party/kidnapping. Bruce was Batman at school, went away and came back with the perfect disguise: stupidity. He’d been impressed with Batman alright, but Brucie had made it sexual in his effort to find out about Superman. Alfred had tried to warn them both, tread carefully and treat each other with civility. They had chosen to follow this path instead and had both fallen into this, whatever this was. 

If Brucie was an idiot and Batman was pure intellect, how could they share a body? Did it matter, when Clark considered that he didn’t know either one? All he knew about Batman was his crime fighting skills. The date to get to know Brucie better had been an evening of Clark talking. Who was he, when he wasn’t Brucie or Batman? Who was real, or the most real, or predominantly dominate? Three strangers in one body and Clark just had to need them! Alfred was right, it was cruel. 

Clark sighed as he looked up at the stars. They rarely held answers but seemed to be missing something tonight. It took him a minute to figure out what was different, but when he did the stars blurred as moisture filled his eyes. Ever since the Kent’s had told him where they suspected he came from, looking at the stars had left him feeling lonely. He had known he would never completely fit in down here and had dreamed about being a nameless, powerless guy on a world of equals. The loneliness, the isolation, and the need were all squashed into insignificance because Brucie Wayne held his heart. He didn’t know Wayne but he loved him. Filled with true happiness, the Bat-voice threw in his opinion. **And you thought you were in trouble before!**

Climbing to his feet, Clark focused on Brucie. He had to find him, talk to him and explain the Kryptonian facts of life. Like the one where he thought he might have just formed a life bond between them. He knew exactly where Brucie was and took to the sky. By heading towards him, Clark found himself hovering outside Wayne Manor once again. A quick scan showed a vast system of caves under the impressive house and an entrance he could use. Alarms shrieked as he entered but didn’t stop him from landing behind Batman. Brucie. Mr. Wayne. Did he have a middle name? 

“Bruce?” 

Batman finished putting the new cowl on before turning to Clark. A quick x-ray confirmed he hadn’t bothered with the second, lead mask. “What are you doing here? I thought you shot your wad for tonight.” 

Clark chose to ignore that, and try for a safe topic. “You’re going back out tonight?” 

The lenses were up, so Clark got the full impact of a glower from both eyes. “Thanks to you, the Joker probably escaped and I have to track him down, again. I also have to pick up my car, again, thanks to you.” 

Clark sighed, so much for a safer topic. “I need to talk to you, explain some things.” 

“No. You need to get out. Out of my cave, out of my city, and out of my bed.” The angry, quiet voice had said the wrong thing and Kal was pulling him into a possessive bear hug. When the kicking and punching penetrated his awareness, Clark let Bruce go with a sheepish smile. 

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can leave you. Now that my brain and body agree on who to grow old with, neither of us has much choice in the matter.” 

“I have a choice. I get to choose how much pain I put you through before I kill you. You’re obviously a menace to people on this planet, people under my protection. And you’d better enjoy it while I beat you to death, it’ll be the only physical contact we ever have again.” Batman turned away and stalked toward the computers. 

Anger propelled Kal over to force Batman to look at him, only to pick him up at the waist and hold him at arm’s length, three feet off the ground. As Batman fought, Clark pushed Kal’s dominance aside to find the words he needed to say to Bruce. Clark was distracted by the fact that the alarms were no longer ringing, and looked for a reason. Alfred finished typing a code into the computer system, then stood and faced them with a shotgun over his arm. He must have returned to his duties after picking Bruce up from the woods, but the alarm had brought him down to help. 

“Master Bruce, if the nature of your emergency is that we have a guest, a simple phone call would have sufficed.” 

Clark laughed with surprise at Alfred’s ability to handle anything. 

“Shoot him, Alfred! Shoot him in the eyes!” Bruce wasn’t happy about Alfred ignoring the fact he was trapped. He turned to growl down at Clark. “It won’t kill you, but I’m sure it’ll hurt.” 

“Master Kent, is there anything I can get you?” Clark had a sudden vision of the lube Bruce kept beside his bed, but Bruce was speaking before Clark could decide if he had it in him to ask an elderly gentleman to go and get it. 

“Quit being polite, Alfred! Get the Kryptonite from the safe. Don’t you see what he’s doing?” 

“Indeed I do, Sir. But I must wonder if you see it.” It was hard to tell, but Clark thought Alfred sounded sad that Bruce couldn’t see what he saw. “If you will recall, I did try to warn you. Repeatedly, Master Bruce.” 

“He did.” Clark put in his two cents worth, just to do a good deed for Alfred. “Twice that I overheard anyway.” 

“At no point did Alfred tell me I was so sexy I would drive you insane!” 

Clark wanted to confirm that was a real possibility, but Alfred was talking. 

“Master Bruce, I told you that ignoring his emotions and motivations would have unforeseen consequences. The same is true for all the people in your life, but you choose to act without having all the information in his case, and his case alone. It is highly illogical to think you can seduce somebody and not have to deal with emotional complications.” 

Bruce swallowed heavily at the idea of emotional complications. But Alfred wasn’t done, further increasing Bruce’s distress. 

“You kill your own needs without mercy, and have little patience for those who seek a better solution. Doing this renders you incapable of understanding how much motivation can be derived from fulfilling a need of the heart. You, Master Bruce, failed to recognize he is just as lonely as you are.” 

Bruce turned to stare down at Clark, like he was looking for an owner’s manual. Thoughts and emotions danced in Bruce’s blue eyes, a sight so beautiful Clark wanted to fly to the moon. But he didn’t really know Bruce any better than he had known Batman or Brucie. He needed to take them away from everything and see just who he was in love with. Alfred was almost to the elevator when Clark called out a half formed thought. “Alfred, I think Bruce needs three days off from work. What do you think?” 

Alfred gave a delicate sniff. “I would need a destination to pack adequately, but I see no problem with clearing Master Bruce’s schedule.” 

“Smallville, Kansas. He’ll probably need hard wearing clothes and a light coat.” 

Bruce glanced between them, trying to figure out this sudden collusion. 

“Alfred, if this is punishment for not listening to you, I can only promise I will make it up to you.” 

“Punishment, sir? Three days of country air with this gentleman qualifies as a reward for finding what you need, despite your resistance.” 

“But, the Joker, the car, my company?” 

“News reports indicated that the Joker was arrested in a cigar shop a short while ago. I will use the tracking system to retrieve the car before turning in for the night. Tomorrow is Sunday, so you will only miss two days of work. As you own the company, your job is secure. Master Kent is the one who will have to come up with a suitable explanation for his absence. Also, Master Kent, next to the shower is a collection of ‘sweat suits’ that might prove more suitable for your journey than Master Bruce’s current attire.” 

“Thank you, Alfred. I’ll get him to change while you pack his things.” 

“Very good, Sir.” Alfred disappeared into the elevator as Clark located the changing area. 

As he carried him that direction, Bruce hung heavily in his arms. Like Bruce was purposely being dead weight in order to annoy Clark. Clark had to admit, it was an awkward way to carry a full grown man, but if he shifted Bruce would kick him in the face. He doubted Bruce’s mood would improve when he broke his foot on Clark’s nose, so he held him in place until they were in the changing area. Blocking the door with his body, Clark set Bruce down slowly. But he had a couple of things to say before he released him. 

“Bruce, if you don’t change on your own, I will assist you. I will rip off your armor, ruining it for further use. Then I will probably start touching you, and not be able to stop until you scream my name. I’m not bragging, but I’ve thought up a few things I can do to you that no human can. That can wait, but the choice is yours.” Clark pulled his arms away from Bruce and let him glare at him for a solid minute. When no response seemed forthcoming, Clark reached for Bruce again. 

Bruce backed up, grabbed some clothes and stepped into the shower stall. An x-ray showed no other exits in the shower, but Clark kept an eye on Bruce as he showered and changed, just in case. Clark put his vision on the ‘view bone’ setting, because he didn’t trust himself to see any flesh just yet. So instead of getting a hard-on, he got to catalogue Batman’s bone injuries. Someday, he was going to have to count how many times Bruce had broken those bones, when he had two or three days to spare. For now he just memorized where they were, and tried to think up ways to prevent future injuries. He wasn’t good at it, because he had never had to think like that before, but Alfred’s return kept him from devoting too much time to such a depressing topic. 

“Master Kent, here are the items I have packed for Master Bruce. His wallet and cellular phone are in this pocket, should you feel the need to confiscate them.” Clark had turned to speak to Alfred and got to see which pouch Alfred was referring to. “He is a tricky one, Sir.” 

“I have a few tricks of my own, but I still appreciate the warnings.” A smile of gratitude at Alfred, knowing he would understand Clark included the date night warning in his thanks. 

“Warnings plural. What other warnings has Alfred given you?” The Bat-growl was firmly in place, startlingly close behind Clark. 

Clark turned to see Bruce dressed in a grey t-shirt and black sweat pants. He was zipping up a black hooded sweatshirt as he interrogated Clark. Clark felt the need to say ‘yummy’ again, but successfully repressed the urge. How could this man make sweats sexy, and what would he do to Clark in a pair of blue jeans? Clark made a mental note to buy Bruce a pair of jeans, if necessary, to find out. And a camera for himself, in case of future failings of the photographic memory. 

“Focus, Kent. What warnings?” 

“Obviously ineffectual warnings, as you both fell into this situation headless of them. Do not annoy Master Kent with trivialities as you enjoy this time together.” 

Clark grinned at the official Alfred version of ‘drop it, dude.’ Setting the shoulder strap across his chest, Clark reached for Bruce. Bruce stiffened and crossed his arms over his chest. 

“We’re not taking the bat-plane, Bruce. How else do you suggest we get there tonight?” 

“You’re not carrying me like a two year old. And don’t call it a bat-plane.” 

“You are acting like a two year old, Master Bruce. Remember, I can compare your attitude now to what it was then.” 

Clark decided it was handy having someone around to remind Bruce that as a selfish brat, he was once young as well. 

“I lay on your back or we take the jet.” 

Clark didn’t answer right away; he was too busy killing his body’s response to the first suggestion. Full body contact with Bruce sounded much better than letting the arms have all the fun. Clark had to work to put irritation into his voice. “Fine.” 

Clark moved the bag as he turned his back to Bruce but couldn’t repress a broad grin as Bruce hugged him and pulled their bodies together. Alfred saw the look and had to hide a smirk of his own. Alfred was getting what he wanted, somebody to make Bruce happy. Clark got what he needed to make himself happy: Bruce. Batman got to feel like he still had some control of the situation, and control made him happy. Clark winked at Alfred and waved as he lifted off. It felt really nice to have Bruce with him. If Clark was flying at a slower than normal speed, it was just because he wanted Bruce to be comfortable. It had absolutely nothing to do with prolonging that contact. 

sB _Sb_ Bs


	5. A lover's weekend, sort of

If Clark didn’t know Bruce was asleep, he would have thought the man was purposely trying to shove him out of bed. Or, Clark mused, the man could just be so ornery that even asleep he still tried to control everything. Whatever the reason, Clark had woken up with half of his body floating beside the bed. He wasn’t used to sleeping with another person in this small bed, so even asleep he had been trying to give Bruce some space. His body told him it would be another hour before his parents got up, and then his body suggested spooning. Clark licked his lips as he considered it.

Floating up and around to the other side of Bruce, Clark could see his face and furrowed brow. Had Bruce fallen asleep that angry or was he frowning at his dreams? The flight to Smallville had been quiet, as Bruce had only growled at Clark’s attempts to talk. After taking turns in the bathroom, they had settled on Clark’s bed fully clothed and waited for the other to fall asleep. Clark figured he had dozed off first, simply because his exhaustion had been so complete. He hadn’t dared touch Bruce, but his presence had been enough to give Clark the best sleep of his life. Now, Bruce was curled up on his right side, hands crossed over his chest. An angry, defensive posture that said he would be instantly awake if Clark tried anything. 

Clark was still puzzling over the mystery before him when he heard noises downstairs. Focusing, he realized he had been staring at Bruce long enough for his parents to get up and start the morning. He changed into flannel and jeans without touching the floor and went to join them. Retired two-term Senator Jonathan Kent was pouring himself a cup of coffee while his wife and the brains behind his political life cracked eggs over a pan. He saw movement on the steps and looked up with a grin. 

“Clark! You sleep here last night?” 

Martha turned and gave him a brilliant smile before holding out her arms. Clark was very glad to rush into her arms and hug her. 

“Answer your father.” She said as she broke away to tend to the eggs. 

“Felt good to sleep in my room. Got in about two am, so I’m glad you leave my widow unlocked. I guess I was able to get in without waking you.” Clark stopped, took a breath and tried to figure out what he was going to tell them about Bruce. 

“So what brings you by so late, son?” Jonathan said as he handed Clark a mug of coffee. 

“Yes, Clark,” Bruce’s voice carried from the stairs as Martha dropped her spatula, Jonathan choked on his coffee, and Clark sighed. Naturally, Bruce couldn’t let him warn his parents they had company. Nor could he make noise as he walked down the creaky wooden stairs, like a normal person. 

“Just why did we come creeping in so late last night?” 

Clark offered his parents a grin, hoping it wasn’t as feeble as it felt. “It was kind of a spur of the moment thing.” 

“And why, exactly, are we here, Clark?” 

The pleasant tone held only a tiny note of fake sounding curiosity, but Clark felt curiosity. The emotion didn’t feel like it originated from Clark, but Jor-el had said he could feel the emotions of his bond-mate. Was that starting to manifest, and if so, how was he going to get a ridiculously private person to accept it? 

“Because you need to learn some manners, that’s why!” Clark snapped, irritated at Bruce’s seeming innocence. Wasn’t it Bruce’s fault that Clark had fallen for him like a boy just learning to fly? Graceful, predatory, Bruce who walked toward them in black sweats that still looked brand new and not like he’d slept in them. He’d even managed to comb his hair in the five minutes since Clark had left him upstairs, apparently asleep. 

“I have excellent manners. For instance, I would have introduced people to a guest I brought into their home.” 

“I’m sorry.” The apology was for his parents, not the jerk behind him. “This is Bruce Wayne. Bruce, these are my parents, Jonathan and Martha Kent.” 

“Charmed, I’m sure.” Bruce took Martha’s hand for kiss and decided not to give it back to her. Her hand looked tiny inside the large male hands that fondled it. “You have a lovely home, at least from what I was able to see when Clark dragged me in here last night. He was very insistent that I meet someone of true beauty.” 

There was a suggestive smile with those words, and way too much eye movement for Clark’s taste. Both of his parents looked stunned with disbelief at the seduction attempt. 

“Brucie! Back off.” Clark’s command was angry, and heartfelt. It was just creepy watching someone you had sex with try to seduce your Mom, and he would have to bleach his brain if Brucie tried it on his Dad! 

“So, Clark, is Bruce a friend from work or after work?” Jonathan seemed reluctant to shake Bruce’s hand, apparently afraid Bruce would kiss it too. His Dad was trying to understand where they met and why Clark had brought home such a weird person. He didn’t know the half of it. 

“Both.” Clark answered as Bruce spoke. “Neither.” 

“I’ve met you in both lives and you know it.” Clark frowned at Bruce; blatant lies were a little different than protecting your secret identity. 

“I was just voicing my objection to the assumption that we were friends, in any life.” Bruce’s tone held a reasonability that made Clark’s teeth ache. 

“I’m sorry, but if you don’t consider Clark your friend, why did you come here with him?” His Mom, finding a polite way to say what his Dad was thinking, as she so often did. 

“He kidnapped me.” Pleasant, and reasonable, so Bruce was completely believable. 

“Clark!” Both parents speaking at once; Bruce was good. 

“It wasn’t really kidnapping!” Kind of like almost pregnant, wasn’t it? What he would give to have just knocked up Lois! That was normal nowadays, whatever he had going on with Bruce would hopefully never be normal. 

“Yes it was. I should know; I’ve been kidnapped by experts. But let me reassure you, your son is the most impressive kidnapper I’ve ever met.” Bruce seemed utterly sincere in his complementary tone, but only irritation came through the link. “The brilliance of physically overpowering someone weaker than you, and just flying away with them! Never underestimate the simple, elegant plan.” 

“That’s just mean.” Clark said. The anger and exasperation were clear in Clark’s voice, which only made Bruce sound that much more reasonable. Bruce made it sound like he thought the Kent’s wanted a kidnapper for a son. 

“So is kidnapping, Clark.” Jonathan Kent, in the same outraged but reasonable tone that had gotten him elected to office. “Maybe you should tell us what’s going on here?” 

“Yes Clark, explain my presence to your parents.” Bruce had an insincere smile on his face. If his smile had reflected what he felt, it would have been much more predatory. He was enjoying the discomfort of making Clark say all this in front of his parents, and Clark didn’t need the new link to know this. 

Clark only realized he had backed away from the other three people in the kitchen as he walked into the wall behind him. He licked his lips, gulped some air and tried to find the right words. “Well, Kryptonians can’t leave well enough alone, genetically, so it’s partially their fault. It’s also Brucie’s fault but I can’t even go into that right now. And Lois just had to stick her nose into it, ’cause that’s what she does, and Batman is right, I have to stop talking to her. But the biology just emphasized what was already there, which is irritating me right now, because I didn’t want it to be there at all, but it is and it’s so strong you wouldn’t believe it. Might be a good thing, ‘cause otherwise I could have spent years figuring it out and I don’t know what I would have done then or in the meantime. And what if I never had the guts to say something about…” 

“Clark!” Martha cut across his words and brought him back to reality. “You’re babbling, sweetheart.” 

“Right.” Clark tried again, deciding to get to the point and worry about the details later. From his position he was able to see all three of them and gauge their reactions to his words. Right now, his parents were trying not to show their worry, and Batman analyzed him from Bruce’s hoodie. “I am totally, hopelessly, once in a lifetime, head over heels in love. With Bruce.” 

Ma, surprised, Pa, shocked, Bruce, pissed. Seriously! Who gets angry at a confession of love? A strange tendril of hope flittered at the edge of Clark’s awareness before Bruce started growling. Under his anger, had Bruce secretly hoped Clark was sincere? 

“I’ve told you before; all I’m good for is sex.” There was too much anger in Bruce to reach the normal voice of Brucie he was trying for. 

“You can claim that all you want, but I still know enough about you to love you.” 

“You don’t know me!” 

“I said I knew enough. If I knew any more I would have pulled you to me months ago.” 

“I am so out of here.” Bruce was too angry to keep in character or remember Clark held him here. Clark sighed before calling after him. He had one more thing to say. 

“Bruce, go where you want. I’ll always be able to find you.” 

Bruce was gone, so it was Batman who turned back into the kitchen. Suddenly he was dark and sinister, without a change in attire. Perhaps Batman’s mask kept people from realizing how dangerous he could be. Clark saw his parents grasp hands; they were scared of the change in Bruce and had no idea what it was about. They had to know Clark would protect them, so they would be fine while he dealt with Bruce. Still, he stepped between them and Bruce, just to ease any worry. 

“Explain.” No emotion reached Clark, as if having emotions were just another tool in Batman’s belt. 

“It’s a low level telepathy. I can’t read your thoughts, but I can find you by instinct.” 

“And?” 

“I can, basically, sense your emotions, including the ones you would normally hide from me.” 

“And?” 

“That’s it, as far as I know.” 

“As far as you know?” The real Bat-voice got softer, scarier with each word uttered. 

“I can’t exactly ask any other Kryptonians, can I?” Clark’s voice responded by getting louder, bordering on Kal’s demanding, condescending arrogance. 

“Please, you don’t even have enough sense to test your abilities, see how far you can go. You probably have an owner’s manual in your own genetic code; you just can’t be bothered to read it until you’ve attached yourself to somebody else’s brain.” Well, that growled, disparaging statement took the arrogance out of Clark’s tone so he went on the defensive. 

“Hey! This ain’t all my fault, Brucie. You came on to me.” Anger flared through the link at the name, like it was an insult for Batman to even hear it. 

“That was an interrogation tactic, nothing more.” 

“A poorly chosen tactic; which you would have known if you had listened to Alfred.” 

“Even Alfred didn’t know your dick held ALL your brains.” 

“Alfred also doesn’t seem to understand your heart is a blackened, shriveled raisin, incapable of loving anything more than your vague ‘city’.” 

“Right. And when you screw up and get someone killed, I’m supposed to console their loved ones with ‘sure he’s incompetent, but he has a really big heart.’” 

“Just because I’m not you doesn’t mean I’m incompetent. I asked you for your expertise, but you were too busy being spooky and secretive!” 

“Trust is earned, buddy-boy. And I don’t think you’ve ever earned anything in your life. Your abilities are written in your genetics, all you had to do was learn how to work them. Any idiot can learn how to work a gun he’s been handed. How can I trust you? I don’t even respect you.” 

Clark stared at Bruce, finding it hard to think beyond the pain those soft, but honest words caused. Bruce accepted Clark’s defeat and stalked soundlessly out of the house. Clark took a minute to calm down before turning to his parents. They clearly had no idea what that had been about or how to respond to it. His mom found her words first, a safe question that probably wouldn’t hurt anybody’s feelings. 

“So, who is Alfred?” The question didn’t hurt Clark’s feelings, but he was unsure how to answer. 

“Bruce’s butler. He raised Bruce after his parents were killed, so he’s more father than servant.” A shrug to say he couldn’t adequately describe that relationship, so let’s try for another topic. 

“Son, has this relationship with Bruce, gotten, ah, physical?” 

Yes Dad, moving the topic on to gay sex would calm the situation down. Clark was surprised it was his own thoughts that supplied that sarcastic response, instead of the Bat-voice. 

“Yes, it has. Bruce is very” Clark paused to think of a good word, only to see his parent’s shock as their brains went somewhere nobody wanted them to go. “Persuasive! Convincing! He usually gets what he wants, though I don’t know what it is he wanted. So Dad, you aren’t too shocked or disappointed, are you?” 

Jonathan had to think that one over a little bit. “You never showed an interest in guys before, so this did kind of creep up out of nowhere. But, all we’ve ever wanted was for you to be happy. I will admit, I don’t understand how Bruce could make you happy, but if he does, then that’s all that matters.” 

Clark took a deep breath; he was just as confused as his Dad. He had no idea if being with Bruce would make him happy or just a different level of insane. “Mom?” 

She came over to hug him again. “I’d always hoped for grandchildren.” 

Clark sighed out the deep breath he had just taken. “I’d always hoped for someone who loved me back.” 

Jonathan came over to throw his arms around his family, and the love Clark soaked in felt better than sunlight. A smell penetrated his awareness and Clark reluctantly broke from the hug. “I’ll clean that pan later, Mom. Right now, I should go find Bruce before he hotwires your truck or learns to make Kryptonite from things found in a barn.” 

Martha gave him a peck on the check before moving off to deal with the blackened, smoky lumps in her skillet. “Let me know what he wants for breakfast.” 

“And how he takes his coffee.” Jonathan added as he moved back to his own cup of now cold coffee. 

Clark grinned his love at them before following his heart out into the fields. Bruce had found a lump of dirt that was considered a hill in the Great Plains of Kansas. As Bruce stared over the sweeping fields of wheat with his back to the house, he danced with the wind. A pattern of slow, graceful movements, too mesmerizing to interrupt. The figure in black didn’t belong in the early morning sun of a Kansas field, but Clark knew Bruce could make himself belong anywhere, if he only wanted too. The problem was getting him to _want_ to fit in. Bruce kept up the patterns as he spoke in a calm, controlled voice. 

“Using the ancient art of Tai Chi to relax, and find my center.” Bruce started calm and tried to continue in the same calm tone, but was snarling when he finished his declaration. “Unfortunately, it’s not going to work with you ogling my ass!” 

Clark wanted to point out that he hadn’t been ogling anything. He had simply been marveling at the grace and elegance of Bruce. The term ogle had a sexual connotation that wasn’t relevant at this moment, but saying so would kick start an argument. Maybe it was a good thing his teeth were too tightly clenched to speak just yet. Was it his anger that was making his jaw hurt or Bruce’s anger leaking into his mind? 

The sound of a car engine turning down his parent’s driveway distracted him from figuring out Bruce or his own head. When Bruce heard it they turned and watched as the Sherriff’s car pulled up and stopped across from them. He waved as he got out of the car and they walked toward each other. The man stuck out his hand when he got close enough to Clark. He spoke even as they shook hands. 

“Hi, I’m Sherriff Buckley. I was looking for Mr. Kent.” 

“Pa’s in the house, I’m Clark. Did you need something?” Clark was all for being polite, but he didn’t want Bruce to do much talking. He was notoriously tricky after all. But the sheriff still turned to Bruce for a handshake. 

“Are you a Kent, too?” Clark clamped down on the response he wanted to give. Honesty was not the best policy right now, because Bruce would object violently to any of the labels Clark wanted to give him. Friend, partner, lover, husband, bond-mate, of the House of El, soul-mate. A Brucie smile emerged with the sheriff’s question, and Clark knew real fear for the first time in a long time. 

“No Sir, I’m just visiting. I’m Dennis Rader, you can call me Den.” The name stirred a memory in Clark but he had to smile pleasantly for the sheriff and not look like the name was new to him. 

“Well, Clark I guess you’ll do. Some drunk driver crashed through your fence late last night. The driver has been in the hospital all night, so we are just getting around to taking the car out of the fence. Thought you might need to come and see the damage.” 

“Definitely. Let me grab some keys, tell the folks, and we’ll follow you out there.” Clark only needed a millisecond to decide leaving Bruce with the sheriff was a bad idea. “Den, you could go get the keys if you wanted, maybe change into some work clothes.” 

‘Den’ laughed, and it was not a pleasing sound. “Just because I was born in Kansas doesn’t mean I know how to fix a fence. Living in Wichita made me a city boy.” 

“Okay.” Clark sighed and headed for the house at a jog. His breathing was shallow as he listened to Bruce and the sheriff talk. He grabbed the truck keys, wrote a long note explaining the sheriff situation and gave the note to his parents fast enough to rattle the pictures on the walls. At the door he had to stop and walk out at a normal, fast speed. 

“Den. Dennis Rader. You know, son, I feel like I have heard that name before.” If the sheriff had that same feeling of recognition, it couldn’t be good. “I just can’t place it. You’re from Wichita?” 

“I was actually born in Pittsburg, Kansas but my family moved to Wichita when I was real little.” Bruce’s Kansas accent was getting better with each word uttered. A day here and you would never know he went to schools bigger than Smallville, unless he wanted you to. 

“How about them Shockers?” The sheriff offered with a grin of camaraderie. Clark would have bet a year’s salary that Bruce had no idea what the Shockers were. 

“You think they got a chance this year?” The way Bruce turned that question back to the sheriff without having answered it was nice. It was just so sexy to see Bruce as a smart guy. 

“Hey, Sheriff! I got the keys, so we can mount up.” Clark called, though he was still on the porch steps. He did not need any further reasons to have barn sex with Bruce, like watching him convince a local cop he was a native. The Sheriff waved and headed for his cruiser, and Bruce shot angry looks at Clark as he walked toward the truck. Following the Sheriff down the drive, Clark focused on his driving and tried to talk to Bruce without getting emotional. “So, who is Den?” 

“Not knowing which wallet Alfred gave you, I didn’t know which back up identity I had with me.” 

This caused Clark to frown at the road. How many wallets did Bruce have, and why did they all have different identities in them? A question that could have been very distracting, so Clark decided to ask it later. “That’s not an answer to the question I asked.” 

“When we get back to the farm, you can look him up on the most trusted source of facts and figures the world over, Wikipedia.” 

“Still not an answer to the question I asked. Who is Den?” 

“Yes, apparently it was silly of me to expect a news reporter and cop to keep up with the news in their home state.” 

Considering their inability to answer a direct question, he suddenly felt like Bruce and Jor-el would get along just fine. “Tell me, ‘Den’ or I will tell the sheriff who you really are.” 

“Maybe you know me by my pseudonym, BTK?” 

Clark had to force his foot to freeze, just to keep it from slamming on the brakes. That was a name he recognized without digging it out of his memory. “You told the sheriff you were a notorious serial killer? God, Bruce! Do you have any idea what the sheriff will do when he finds out?” 

“A better idea than you, considering I’ve actually read laws regarding people who knowingly give false or misleading information to the police during an investigation.” 

“You did it, knowing there were laws against it?” Clark was too shocked to feel anything and no emotions leaked out of Bruce. 

“I never really liked the BTK killer moniker. It’s redundant, like ATM machine, automatic teller machine, machine. Though the k in bondage, torture, and kill stands for kill, not killer.” 

“I see, you think he will arrest you, then you get to spend your three days off hiding in a jail cell. Tricky, hell! Remind me to tell Alfred his gift of understating things will get me into trouble.” The other sheriff’s car was visible now, as was the tow truck and crashed car. Clark pulled off to the side of the road and sighed heavily before getting out. Bruce got out with his Brucie grin firmly in place. Clark got around the truck as fast as he thought he could without causing people to stare at him. With a friendly, but firm, arm around Bruce’s shoulders he led him to the fence. “See this? This is called a fence, big city boy.” 

“Do they all come with giant, car sized holes?” That sincerely stupid voice got a few close people looking at them. The sheriff came over with a grin, which was supposed to be amusement at the joke. Too much of the sheriff believed in the sincerity of that voice to keep the grin from looking faked. Den hadn’t seemed that stupid at the house, but some people just made a good first impression. 

“It is a giant hole, but any cattle in that field wouldn’t have been able to get out because the car blocked the way.” The sheriff offered with most of his attention on Bruce. 

“It’s ok, sheriff. This field is fallow this season and the cattle are grazing elsewhere.” Clark gestured wildly to bring the attention away from Bruce. ”I can repair most of the fence now, but the driver hit the solar panel that charges this section of electric wire that tops the wood. That’s expensive and will have to be replaced.” 

“I’ll give you a copy of the report that will have all the numbers you need to file an insurance claim. Hey!” Sherriff Buckley sent Bruce a look that made Clark sweat. “I have feeling, something vague about Rader being an electrician.” 

Bruce shrugged and then opened his mouth. 

Clark bit his lip. What would he do if Bruce would rather go to jail than spend a little time with him? A hint of amusement filtered into Clark’s mind, did Bruce really think this was funny? 

“I do have an associate’s degree in electronics. I might be able to rig up something temporarily.” 

Clark allowed himself to breath, even though the sheriff still had that funny look on his face. Bruce, it seemed, was playing a game, giving himself something to do while stuck in hicksburg. “That’s a great idea! Den, why don’t you go look at the panel and see if you can do anything with it? I’ll get that form from the sheriff.” 

Bruce shrugged and ambled off towards the remains of the panel and the sheriff watched him go with a frown. He finally turned and walked toward his cruiser, pulling a clipboard out of the front seat. “This should help with the insurance, but if you have any questions you can call the office.” 

“Actually, I have a question right now.” Buckley glanced at Bruce before looking at Clark. Clark took the form but acknowledged the sheriff’s wondering eye. “Yes, it’s about my friend. He’s, well, stupid. He’s kind of famous and he came here to get away from the media. I don’t know why he lied to you, you’re the law! But his name isn’t Den whatever he said it was. I thought you would figure it out as soon as you had a spare moment. How much trouble is he in?” 

A little sucking up, when combined with Brucie’s reputation just might get them a ‘get out of jail free’ card. Providing the sheriff bought it. 

“Well, Clark, I’ve seen how the media can treat even minor celebrities. I can understand why he would want to get away from that, but it’s always a bad idea to lie to the cops. Tell me who he is, and if I’ve heard of him, the media probably bothers him a lot.” 

Clark leaned in for a conspiratorial whisper. “He’s Brucie Wayne, of Gotham.” 

The sheriff nodded. “Him, even I’ve heard of. Is he really as stupid as they say?” 

“Yeah. It’s got to be some kind of brain damage.” 

“Alright, I won’t tell anybody or bother him. But you should try and convince him that lying to the police is a bad idea.” 

“That’s probably too complex for him. If I tell him not to lie to the police, he’ll probably ask me if they’ll call the cops on him.” 

“You’re a good friend, Clark. With a lot of patience.” 

“Thank you, Sheriff Buckley.” 

A friendly handshake and the sheriff pulled on his seatbelt. Clark watched the convoy recede before turning back to the fence. He could fix it easily enough, but not without displaying a little more strength than the authorities needed to witness. Getting the tools from the truck, he laid them by Bruce and started to work. For no reason Clark could name, using his strength while Bruce tinkered with delicate things just felt right. Needing a distraction from this strange contentment, Clark figured a good insult would do it. 

“So Bruce, how did you steal my kryptonite that first night?” 

A snort of disgust was a good start, but Clark didn’t feel any anger behind it. “A top notch investigative reporter who can see through walls and you can’t figure that out?” 

“I was too busy trying to figure you two out, fat lot of good it did me.” Apparently his response made sense to Bruce as he didn’t remark on it. The silence stretched out, and Clark began to wonder if a response was forthcoming. Under the pretense of getting a hammer, Clark turned and selected it from the tool box beside Bruce. His focus seemed to be entirely on the smashed solar panel, so Clark guessed Bruce wasn’t going to answer him. “You know, it might really save my life one day if I did know.” 

“You mean the life you’ve decided to attach to my brain? The life, that if it ends, my brain will be all mine again? Right, so what was my motivation for telling you?” 

Clark sighed heavily; it was his own fault for wanting a distraction. “Fine, Bruce. For each question you answer, honestly and directly, I will take a minute off your three day sentence with me.” 

“An hour.” 

“I’ve got more questions than you’ve got sentence. How about five minutes?” 

“An hour and five.” 

“I doubt you haggle like that at Wayne Enterprises.” 

“Two hours.” 

“Five minutes or I talk the whole time. I can do it to, so don’t test me. Three solid days of my voice, prattling on about whatever pops into my head. The excitement of life in Smallville, crop growth statistics, and reports from quantity surveyors. Stories like this one about Milford and Lloyd. Milford, he lives about forty miles south of us, so he’s not technically in Smallville but he’s still a close friend of my father’s. Last year he had to put Lloyd down, his prize winning Tennessee fainting goat. Have you ever been around these things? Probably not, but kids love them. They get their name from the fact that if they’re scared; they freeze up and fall over, in a faint. Interesting fact, Mountain Goats are not actually goats, they are antelopes. But back to Lloyd, he had the largest balls you have ever seen! Not just for a goat, I mean for an elephant. Turned out to be cancer, so Milford couldn’t even eat Lloyd after he shot him. Then Milford had to go through all his records to look for Lloyd’s kids to have all of them checked for cancer. Pa went over to help and while they were physically checking the goats, they found one with huge balls who turned out to be female! That got a lot of people out to take a good look, so Milford had to charge for parking. So this guy comes in from…”

“Enough!” 

Clark grinned at the fence post, glad he had found a way to annoy the most annoying man he’d ever meet. 

“Fine, five minutes is fine. There are certain chemicals that slow down radiation. I had some on hand and took it with me to Metropolis, just in case. For another five minutes I’ll email you the exact chemical composition.” 

“Accepted. Why did you take it?” 

“You were an unknown, and I wanted leverage.” 

“How did you blind me?” 

“A recorded amplification of the radioactive signal emitted by kryptonite.” 

“You zeroed in on me at that party. How did you know it was me?” 

“I told Queen the sunglasses were a stupid disguise, but at least they hid his eyes. Not that it wasn’t obvious by the fact you were hanging out together out of costume.” 

“What do you have against Ollie?” 

“He only helps people when he’s bored. This isn’t a game.” 

“That’s not true, but we’ll leave Ollie out of this for now.” Clark was getting close to the questions he really wanted answered and defending his friend would distract him. “Why were you angry at Alfred for offering me a choice of drinks?” 

“I wanted to get you drunk, to see what would happen. Alfred didn’t approve of that plan.” 

Clark spent a little bit of time and attention on getting a fence post in the exact position he wanted it, knowing it was just a way of getting the nerve to ask his next question. “Why did you seduce me?” 

“To learn about you.” 

“What could you have possibly learned from our time together?” 

“Clarify.” 

“What?” 

“Answering that stupid ‘what’ question is worth five minutes. There is more than one answer to your previous question and I want five minutes for each answer I give.” 

“Accepted. Please continue, you nitpicky jerk.” 

“Really, that’s your best insult?” 

“No, it’s not my best, but I get five minutes back for answering your question.” 

“Not an agreed upon part of our original plan, but I’ll still be out of here after lunch by the time I’ve explained why I seduced you.” 

“Then please explain it to my ignorant self.” 

“When I first shook your hand, I learned how different your skin felt from humans. Smoother, but thicker. The standard Brucie seduction at the party suggested you weren’t used to lewd sexual advances. The kiss in the limo showed your reaction to seduction was something I could use. Your fear of someone as stupid as Brucie knowing your secret showed you don’t have contingency plans in place for when you are discovered. 

Leaving the police station, a blatant flirt had you blubbering about knowing a mind reader, so I knew a sexual distraction could get all kinds of information out of you. Nibbling your neck with increasing amounts of pressure allowed me to determine your skin sensitivity. News reports had you as invulnerable but you still respond to pleasure and pain within normal human tolerances. 

You have an impressive control over your bodily functions but seem to be limited in the number of things you can control at once without prior warning. You kept yourself from getting hard when I put my hand on your dick, but couldn’t stop your blush any longer or stop kissing me back. Apparently, the idea of sex with me had you so hot and bothered, that even after I embarrassed you on the steps of your job, you still called and asked me out. Your reproductive drive overrides your brain just like most humans.” 

Clark turned to stare open mouthed at the man who fiddled with the solar panel. His focus was on the electronics, not the answer he was giving. Bruce felt all this was obvious, and a fair way to find out about a stranger. Clark had even more questions he wanted to ask, but Bruce just kept talking. 

“When you came to my house, you would have found the caves if you had x-rayed it. This shows you put too much faith in your brute strength and not enough in planning ahead. You either didn’t notice or care about the security cameras in the manor, the ones that recorded everything you said or did. Either reason isn’t good for my opinion of you, considering paparazzi and competing companies have tried bugging my house before. 

Whatever your reasons for facing the window while we ate, you didn’t consider the sun would blind you to my facial expressions. Nor were you concerned about the door behind you letting people in you couldn’t see. When I entered the dining room, I whispered food or fuck in a voice too soft for humans to hear. You responded without thinking about it, telling me you didn’t consider Brucie a threat. He already knew, so clearly there was no point in hiding the exact nature and extent of your abilities from him. 

You believed Brucie to be an idiot, even when he repeatedly startled you with relevant questions, insights or solutions. When you realized you were talking more about the other members of the JL than yourself, a game of footsie was enough to make you forget any concerns you had about your words. In my bed, you admitted to being solar powered, in that your powers were dependent on the amount of sunlight you received.” 

“Enough!” Clark couldn’t take it anymore, a list of what Bruce perceived to be his failings being read out without a trace of emotion behind it. Like Clark was all alone still, as Batman’s experiment had only meant anything to gullible hick Clark Kent. “Please Bruce, that’s enough.” 

“Really? You don’t want me to tell you what Brucie learned about all your friends at the JL? Like the fact that the only one I can’t trace satisfactorily is John Jones, so I suspect your mind reader may be an alien like you? Plus there is all the stuff I learned after you froze my ceiling.” Bruce looked up from the panel to shoot Clark one of the seductive looks Clark loved so much. “And let’s not forget about before you iced the ceiling.” 

Clark held his hands up in surrender and stepped backwards. A jolt of electricity zapped across his back and he pulled away from the fence. 

“I guess the panel is working again.” Bruce couldn’t even be bothered to hide his amusement. 

“Yes, and I guess not warning me was more fun than warning me?” 

“Exactly, and that’s good for five minutes.” 

“Forget it; I’ll just take you back Tuesday after breakfast, instead of waiting until dark.” 

“Dawn. I don’t eat breakfast.” 

“After breakfast, because I do eat it and I’m your shuttle.” 

“Accepted, you overemotional jerk.” 

“Once you’re done with the panel, we can go see about lunch.” Clark growled out the words and turned back to his fence. It was fixed, but he really wanted to pound on something. Of course, pulling bright boy Bruce to him for a round of kissing sounded like a good idea too. Why was he attracted to people who worked to drive him insane? 

sB _Sb_ Bs

The drive back to the house was quiet, as Clark worked to digest what Bruce knew about him. Later, he would have to figure out what he had learned about Bruce, but knew the list wouldn’t be nearly that long. Bruce sat stiffly in the truck and meditated. Clark figured he was trying to learn how to hide his emotions from the link. When Clark parked in the driveway, Bruce was out of the truck before the engine shut off. Clark got out and called to Bruce. “If we missed lunch, Ma will heat something up for us.” 

Bruce shrugged and called over his shoulder. “I’ll wait in the barn.” 

As Bruce headed that way, Clark stood beside the truck and tried to understand what was behind this. Had Bruce uncharacteristically decided to give Clark time to talk to his parents alone? Did he have an escape plan in mind? Or had he actually come up with a formula for making Kryptonite from things commonly found in barns? Bruce was probably smart enough, but for any of these plans shouldn’t have some kind of emotion reached Clark across the link? The sound of an opening door dragged Clark’s attention away from questions he’d never get answered. Martha waved at him from the porch so he raced to her side. 

“We held lunch for you, since you both missed breakfast. I’ll start on the hamburger patties now, so it should all be ready in about twenty minutes.” 

“Thanks, ma. I’ll tell Bruce and we’ll wash up.” 

She smiled at him but cast distrustful eyes toward the barn. Clark turned away, pretending not to see and wishing he had put more thought into this. He should have figured out what was going on before dragging it home to his parents. After they had time to adjust, like a good ten years, then Clark could have brought Bruce home. 

Clark shoved his regret aside as he entered the barn. It was too late to fix it now, so he would have to make do with the situation as it was. On his second step into the barn, Clark remembered his sex fantasies about Batman dropping down from the rafters, and checked the roof. He tried not to be too disappointed when they were sex-fiend free. He headed up the stairs as he called out. “Bruce? Mom held lunch for us, it will…”

The sex-fiend didn’t get the memo about the rafters, but he was close on everything else. Bruce had angled the couch so he could watch Clark approach while stretched out on it and stripped down to his boxers. Light fingers teased himself as he looked at Clark. A second later, and Clark couldn’t remember if he had taken the stairs or flew. He wanted Bruce, wanted sex with Bruce just as bad as he had last night but his brain was still working, which was a decided improvement. Until it let him see the vacant blue eyes of Brucie were seducing him, not the intelligent beauties Bruce had. 

“Um, Bruce, what are you doing?” 

“Well, you enjoyed our talk so much; I thought I might get more time out of you by showing you the other things my mouth can do.” A hand cupped Clark’s very interested penis, but he fought down that response. “You only think you know what I can do with my body, and your cock. What about your cock, in my body?” 

Clark couldn’t help himself, he leaned forward and kissed those willing lips. He felt nothing in that contact. He wanted Bruce, yes, but Bruce didn’t have any emotions at all. Clark pulled back and looked at him. How could Bruce shut off his emotions like this? “I know you’re good for more than sex. This time together wasn’t for a quick fumble in the barn.” 

Bruce shifted and wrapped his legs around Clark’s waist to pull him closer. His husky voice washed over Clark in a wave of lust. “Who says it will be quick?” 

Clark came back to himself aware he was kissing Bruce in response to those words. He was able to pull away from skilled lips and dancing hands, because there was no desire behind it. Clark sat back on his heels beside the couch and sighed heavily. Bruce blinked at him as he tried to determine what was behind Clark’s sudden resistance to the seduction that had worked so well before. 

“What? Now that you have me at your mercy, you can’t get it up?” That snarl had emotion behind it. Maybe Bruce only allowed himself to feel anger. Clark had to laugh though; lack of desire on his part wasn’t the problem. 

“You could be a hundred years old and 650 pounds, and I’d still desire you. I don’t know why you have such a hard time believing it, but I want you to be a part of my life.” 

“Please! You want a wife, waiting for you to come back from a hard day of saving the world. That’s not me. I do what I want, and who I want. I fuck people literally and figuratively. I take what I want and toss ‘em cab fare.” 

Well, that was obviously a lie but Clark wasn’t sure how he knew that. Bruce’s body didn’t give any of the signs of a lie, but of course Batman would train himself to beat a lie detector test. Or maybe Clark did have proof that was a lie. 

“No you don’t! I slept outside your bedroom for six months, listening to you sleep. I thought you came in late from partying, not patrol. But you were always alone.” 

“I fuck people, and then go out on patrol. You showed up too late to see the show. Also, you slept outside my sleeping bedroom, not the sex room.” Clark almost asked, but got a sudden image of both rooms in his mind’s eye. He had been so focused on Brucie, he hadn’t noticed it was two different rooms. “And don’t worry; I’ve fixed that little hole in my security. Land in that tree again, and I guarantee you’ll wake up.” 

That threat wasn’t a lie, but Clark still wondered how he knew that. A thought occurred and Clark rubbed his hand across his forehead to hide his expression. To test his theory he had to get Bruce to lie to him again, which probably wouldn’t be difficult. Clark put his disappointment and hurt into his voice and eyes as he looked at Bruce. “You fuck people over, because you don’t care about them. So you became Batman for the fun and fame?” 

Bruce jerked upright into a sitting position but fought back his indignation. “I’m a rich bitch; I’d do anything for a thrill. Do you know of anything more thrilling then making tough guys pee their pants with a throaty growl?” 

“Actually Bruce, I have discovered something even more thrilling. I just learned you can’t lie to me anymore!” 

“What?” The Bat-growl kept emotion from leaking into Clark’s head, but Clark was too happy to care. 

“The link tells me when you lie.” Clark knew his taunting voice would force the Bat to retaliate, but there wasn’t much Bruce could do to him out here. Jor-el hadn’t told him about this, but maybe Kryptonians lied less than Bruce. “I know you kill your own needs, believing other people have more of a right to be happy. Don’t care about people? You care so much about people, you feel like it will rip you in half one of these days. You don’t understand, but I feel the same. That’s what drew me to you, before I knew you.” 

“You’re making that up. The blasted link is not a polygraph!” Real anger leaked into his voice and mind. 

“I’ll prove it to you.” Clark was grinning like a fool, but he couldn’t help it. “Tell me two truths and a lie, I tell you which is which.” 

Bruce took a couple of deep meditative breaths before responding with his body completely under control. He opened his mouth to speak and Clark knew the words coming were a lie. His grin widened in anticipation. 

“Clark? Bruce?” The soft voice came up from the barn door, Jonathan trying to get their attention without interrupting. Clark turned to speak and heard Brucie’s voice before he could form words. 

“Come on baby, you know what I like. The shaft needs attention. Suck harder, and don’t ignore my balls.” Confusion kept Clark quiet for a long moment as he snapped his head back to look at Bruce. What did Bruce think he was doing? Clark wasn’t doing anything like that! Why was he suggesting such things when they had company? “You know what you have to do to convince me to fuck you in the ass. You have to work for it, beg for it. Beg!” 

The eyes were very cruel, in a cold, calculating way. Bruce was trying to embarrass Clark, make his family hate him so they wouldn’t allow the relationship. Take back some of the control that had been ripped from him when he was forced to come on this little vacation. Clark pressed a heavy hand across Bruce’s mouth and turned to call down the steps. “Dad?” 

“No slave, its daddy. Who’s your daddy?” The voice came from the stairs, clear, aroused and defiantly Brucie’s. Clark felt like an idiot for not expecting Batman to have learned how to throw his voice. “Bitch, you give better head all the time!” 

Jonathan stumbled out of the barn, but Bruce sent a series of moans after him. Without an audience, Bruce reverted to silence, and a what-are-you-going-to-do-about-that stare. Clark brought his hand down to Bruce’s arm and shook him a little. 

“That was an evil thing to do to my father! You shouldn’t take it out on my family when you’re angry with me, it’s kind of sick.” 

“I’m sick? I’m not the one who just broke the zipper on my jeans.” 

Clark looked down and confirmed Bruce’s observation. The erection he had been fighting since reaching the top of the stairs had broken out at the sound of an aroused Bruce, and Clark tried to hide it behind his hands. 

“Well I told you I wanted you! Or do you need more empirical evidence before you believe me?” 

“Fine, you want me. Fuck me, and get it out of your system. I’ve got work to do.” Bruce got up and walked to the window to drum his fingers on the windowsill. 

Clark stayed where he was, trying to kill his desire for the next couple of minutes. He had almost succeeded when a chance breeze brought that scent to him, the one no perfumer had been able to offer him. Trying not to drown in it, Clark turned to look at Bruce without considering what a dumb thing that was to do. 

Bruce was standing on his left leg, the right foot on his left thigh. His hands were clapped together and pointed straight up as he breathed deeply, meditatively. Part of Clark saw it as a yoga pose, but most of him saw it as stunningly beautiful. It wasn’t until Clark was forcing his hands to not grab the body in front of him that he understood he had gotten up and walked across the loft at speed. 

“Bruce?” Clark whispered softly, not wishing to disrupt him if he was deep in his mediation. “What kind of cologne is that?” 

Bruce snapped his head around to look, confusion and surprise on his face. “What?” 

“You smell so good; I wanted to know what it was.” 

“I’m not wearing cologne. You saw me shower last night, when and why would I have put some on?” Bruce shook his head and turned away, settling back into his yoga. 

“So what kind of soap do you use then?” Clark found he had to force himself to talk instead of just sniffing and waiting for that scent. “Sometimes it’s very faint, other times it’s overwhelming.” 

“In the cave I use an improved hunter’s soap that is designed to remove natural body odors. Smelling like old spice could alert somebody to my presence before I wanted them to know I was there. Upstairs I use whatever Alfred buys, so why don’t you go ask him?” 

“That follows, since I couldn’t smell you after you replaced the faulty bug in my apartment. Even then I thought it was strange that the workman didn’t have any personal body smells under his cheap cologne.” Except, Clark wondered, if it wasn’t soap or cologne what was that smell? Carefully, so as not to disturb him, Clark leaned in and sniffed Bruce. It wasn’t the shampoo, but a trickle of scent reached up to Clark so he started sniffing downwards. When he found a source, Clark closed his eyes to better enjoy it. 

He must have moved, digging deeper into that scent because his nose touched Bruce. Meditation forgotten, Bruce moved away but kept looking at Clark. The look on his face was the same one Clark had used when Brucie bought his apartment building. Clark grinned at this comparison. “Really, Bruce? You have no problem seducing an unknown, unstoppable alien from another planet, but when he sniffs your armpit, that’s weird?” 

“Yes, Clark! It is extremely weird! If you like the way I smell so much, I’ll send you my workout clothes instead of making Alfred wash them. I’ll never shower again, so you can smell me from Metropolis. There will be no need for us to share a city again, how’s that grab you?” 

“Well, it doesn’t do nearly as much for me as the idea of grabbing you. My parents do think we’re up here having sex, so we might as well do what I’ll be guilt tripping about.” Clark couldn’t match a Brucie look of seduction, so he settled for moving his hands away from his returning erection. Batman responded with a cold look of planning that made Clark even harder. Those eyes didn’t look away as Bruce pulled off his boxers and threw them at Clark. Even as Clark snatched them out of the air, Bruce walked back over to the window. His hands gripped the windowsill as he positioned himself for Clark to enter. 

Clark sighed softly and walked up behind Bruce. It was the greatest temptation Clark had ever faced, but all he did was place a hand on Bruce’s arm. A sharp emotion stabbed at him from the link at this contact. Desire. Bruce wanted, but what did he want? Did he want Clark to take him like this, rip away his last line of defense? What would that get him, proof that Clark would take whatever was denied to him? Or did he want Clark to take what he couldn’t give? Was the man incapable of simply talking about such things as emotions and needs? 

“Bruce?” Clark pulled on his arm; he wanted to look Bruce in the eye. Bruce stayed where he was and jerked his arm out of Clark’s hand. Fighting back his irritation, Clark picked Bruce up and twirled him around. When he faced Clark, Clark lowered him gently to the ground. Bruce retreated into Batman as Clark watched the change on his features. Lacking any other inspiration, Clark listened to his body. 

Locking eyes with Bruce, he used his hands on Bruce’s penis as he spoke in a soft, slow voice. “If this was only biology, I bet J’onn could break the link. If it was just a physical attraction, I could probably find somebody else. Lex challenged me mentally; I had to work to understand what he was up to. Ollie’s a smart guy, Lois is amazing, and Lana dazzled me from the first time I saw her. I’ve known smart, sexy, wonderful people all my life, and not one of them pulled this need out of me.” 

Bruce was fighting it, but his eyes were losing that Batman focus and he was wonderfully hard in Clark’s hands. Clark moved closer and mated their erections, wrapping his large hands around them both. He stroked and talked, hoping this would get through to Bruce. 

“Brucie offered orgasms like candy in a dish. Naturally I wanted that, who wouldn’t? That’s why you do that, because it gets you what you want, whatever that may be. Batman’s impressive, scary, intimidating, smart, everything you designed him to be. And a challenge! But I think I could have got over him as well. I’ve met smart people who do what needs to be done, like Chloe. J’onn’s fantastically smart and can change shape. That little talent could defiantly liven up a long term relationship. So it was just biology, until I met you.” 

Batman was gone, so it was Bruce who looked at him with astonishment at his words, and a touch of fear. “Just biology, until I found you. The man who invented and manipulates Brucie and Batman, the man who makes the two most special beings in my universe pale shadows when they stand next to him. My body belonged to Brucie, Batman staked a claim on my brain, but that was unimportant. You stole my heart. Bewildering, beguiling Bruce who beat me with half his brain tied behind his back. It wasn’t love until I met you, Bruce, and I love you!” 

Bruce’s eyes dilated as he shuddered into Clark’s hand. Pleasure radiated out of the link and pushed Clark over that same edge. Clark continued to hold them together with his right hand but used his left arm to pull Bruce to him. He was surprised that Bruce let him, melted against him. Amazement and wonder filtered through the link as Bruce accepted the truth of Clark’s words and actions. With a deep breath Bruce spoke softly, for Clark’s ears only. 

“You smell pretty good too.” 

Fine, the man was incapable of talking about his feelings, Clark could accept that. He tried to let go as Bruce pulled away but found them kissing instead. They broke away when Clark’s stomach growled loudly, letting them both know it wasn’t happy about missing two meals. Clark shrugged as Bruce retrieved his clothes. 

“I’ll go change into jeans that still have a zipper, and meet you at the table.” Trying not to grin like an idiot in love, Clark flew from the loft window to his bedroom window. He darted across the hall to the bathroom and cleaned up before changing into clean jeans. Opening his mind for a quick look, he found Bruce still feeling amazement, with a new touch of hope. Not being able to decide if he should fly down the stairs or run at top speed, just to be near Bruce that much sooner, Clark forced himself to walk like a normal person. 

One look at the table was enough to see it was Brucie who nibbled the fries on his plate. His parents sat in their usual places, but leaned toward each other and looked at Brucie as if he was the alien from another planet. Clark froze as he tried to figure out what Brucie was doing that was freaking out his parents. Brucie selected the largest fry on his plate, rolled it lovingly in the ketchup and then licked the ketchup off. It should have been childish, a kid playing with his food, instead it made Clark blush and think about bits of his anatomy he would like to replace that fry with. 

“Bruce! Quit creeping out my parents.” 

Vacant Brucie eyes swiveled around to lock on Clark as he licked ketchup and salt off his finger. Clark hoped his shiver wasn’t noticeable as he walked toward Bruce. No emotions were wasted on a Brucie seduction, so it was apparently his default setting in social situations. With a considerable effort, Clark managed to sit down and face his parents. “I’m sorry about that, but I want you to know that’s not Bruce. I don’t know why he’s hiding from you, but it’s all an act he puts on.” 

A flare of irritation in the link was followed by a solid punch to the arm. Clark slowly turned to look at Bruce. “You tell my secrets, I tell yours.” 

Clark almost laughed. “What secrets? My parents know everything.” 

Batman’s eyes glared at him and his words were too soft for human ears to hear. “Do they know how easy it was to turn the straight as a line farm boy they raised into a flaming queer? Do they know how many times a month you masturbate? Do they want to see the recordings of you staining your sheets and calling out to me?” 

“You wouldn’t!” Clark whispered back so softly he figured out Batman could read lips. 

“I’m capable of nearly anything.” 

That statement was very true, and Clark swallowed heavily before turning back to his parents. “I can’t tell you why he hides, or what he’s hiding. All I can do is offer the hope that someday, he will show you just how wonderful he really is.” 

Jonathan and Martha exchanged looks. Martha’s said she thought Clark was under a spell. Jonathan was going with a new form of kryptonite. Both agreed that separating him from Bruce was the best way for him to get over it. They were silently concocting a plan when the phone rang. Martha smiled at Clark while managing not to see Bruce and got to her feet. “I’ll get that.” 

The handset was on the counter, so it was on its third ring when she picked it up. “Hello?” 

“Yes, this is the Kent residence.” 

“No, we were just having a late lunch.” 

“Hold on.” Placing a hand over the mouthpiece, her eyes flickered between Bruce and Clark. “An English gentleman says we should watch the news.” 

Bruce moved before she finished the word gentlemen, managing to beat a startled Clark to the living room. As Bruce found the news channel, Clark listened in on the phone conversation to confirm the identity of the caller. The elegant voice speaking was Alfred, but Clark was now listening to his words as well as the news. 

“Mrs. Kent, I hope your houseguest has been minding his manners.” 

“Well, everything he said was polite.” Martha, using her own manners to not tell a stranger what she really thought of her houseguest. 

“Ah. I can tell from your careful phrasing that he has not been a gentleman. I am sorry for that, Mrs. Kent. I was able to teach him wonderful manners, but never the desire to use them unless he saw a tangible benefit. Young mister Kent has always behaved with admirable decorum; he is a credit to you.” 

“Well, thank you.” Martha took the complement graciously and hid her confusion well. 

“You are welcome. Please enjoy the rest of your day, but I must go now.” 

“You have a good day, too. Good-bye.” 

“Good-bye, Madame.” Martha gave the handset a funny look as she pulled it away from her head, but Clark didn’t have time to explain that call. Bruce was turning away from the news to look at him expectantly. 

“Home. Now.” 

Clark sighed but acquiesced; the mission always came first. “I’ll get your stuff.” 

“Burn the clothes and max out the cards, see if I care! Get me home.” Bruce turned and stormed out the door. Clark turned to shrug at the bewildered looks he was getting. 

“Bruce does that to people.” Clark zipped away, past Bruce and to the bottom of the porch stairs. Bruce jumped the stairs and landed on Clark’s back. Once he was back in the position he had used before, Clark took to the sky. 

“The bugs I planted on you at different times tell me you can get to Gotham a lot quicker than you got us here last night.” Batman’s voice, ordering him around. Batman’s brilliant mind, shutting off the emotional link. Hadn’t even been in place a day, and Clark missed it when it wasn’t there. “Cave entrance.” 

Clark went as fast as he dared with Bruce’s exposed skin subjected to the wind. Listening in on the situation, Clark was ready to shout any changes to Bruce. Retaliation for a drive by had escalated into a gang war at about noon. GCPD had cleaned up most of that, but rival gang members had been brought into the same ER. Gangs had divided the hospital and taken hostages, limiting what the cops could do. It was daylight, almost 1:30 in the afternoon, and cops, media and relatives of people inside the hospital were gathered around the building. But there was no way Bruce could be on this planet and not assist the _Thomas and Martha Wayne Memorial Hospital_. 

Alarms blared as they entered the cave and Clark was impressed. Bruce’s security was good if it could detect him when he was at speed. Landing in front of the computers, Bruce let go the second Clark touched down. He typed in a code and the alarms died. His sigh was really loud in the resulting silence. Bruce turned to Clark and pulled him into a kiss. This wasn’t a Brucie kiss, it was incalculably better because there was real passion behind it. Clark was afraid he was going to lose another zipper to his response, when the emotion behind the kiss changed. At first it was subtle, but it slowly grew until Clark couldn’t help but identify it. When Bruce pulled away, sorrow was all that he felt. It was Bruce who separated their bodies and locked eyes with Clark. 

“Clark. Get out of my cave, out of my city, and out of my life.” 

“What?” Clark was surprised he managed to squeak out that word, he was at such a loss. 

“You are a distraction and I will put you behind me.” Batman solidified into Bruce’s features and turned away to the changing area. He could have been the cave wall calling out to Clark without a trace of emotion. “Get out.” 

Clark held his ground, as he tried to work out what to do or say to change Bruce’s decision. He had only gotten as far as deciding he needed a logical argument when Batman emerged in full costume. He didn’t even have a glance to spare for Clark as he uncovered a highly modified motorcycle with what looked like a cowcatcher on the front and sides. He settled on the seat, revved the engine and called out just before he drove away. 

“Don’t be here when I get back.” 

Time passed as Clark waited for Bruce to return or an idea to occur to him. He listened as Batman evaded the witnesses by driving his motorcycle around the sewer system. Listened as the Dark Knight beat his way through two gangs dumb enough to mess with his hospital. Got to hear a group of medical staff whispering in a patient’s room about not having the right equipment to save his life. Heard excitement as the correct equipment got shoved into the room. Marveled at how Bruce’s electronic hearing had heard about that need and he knew enough about the equipment to supply it. 

Clark got to listen in as cops carefully entered the building and Batman returned to his bike. Bruce’s stomach rumbled, but the sun was setting and he wasn’t returning to the cave. Food, rest, and love were for normal people, not Bruce. With this idea weighing him down, Clark had an exhausting flight back to Metropolis. 

sB _Sb_ Bs


	6. Matching Jackets are Cool!

Bruce needed time, Clark could understand that, or so he told himself. Bruce needed to process and meditate on the fact that he was no longer alone, as he'd probably convinced himself he would be for the rest of his life, much as Clark had tried to do. He didn't have much choice who he loved, but neither did Clark. And surely, Clark mentally begged all the gods of the universe, the completion of the link meant that Bruce felt it too. As time passed without Bruce returning his phone calls, or emails, Clark began to doubt what he'd felt in that last kiss.

Bruce wanted him, or had, but something was holding him back. Holding on to that belief was getting harder, but it was all that kept Clark from storming the castle of Wayne manor. His emails were one or two lines about checking in, wondering how you were doing. His phone calls were 'just wanted to say hi' but Clark no longer dreamed at all. It was cold outside but the frost was really taking over his heart. He tried to be his normal, cheerful self, but even Lois was tiptoeing around him lately. She hadn't said a word, as if she recognized the signs of a breaking heart and was trying not to be the one to cause it to shatter. 

With New Year's Day coming up, reporter Clark got notice of a charity event the weekend before, including the announcement of a Wayne Enterprises sponsored kissing booth. Since Bruce would throw out the first kiss of the evening, Clark decided he'd cover the event, no matter what. He was going to keep control and not let jealous Kal out of the cage he'd been pacing in ever since that limo ride. In fact, he wore his worst suit and took the train to Gotham, reminding himself of that nervous wreck he was for his first date with Brucie. 

His self-restraint was unnecessary, as he felt Bruce before he saw him. Bruce entered the convention center, unshielded kryptonite putting a barrier between them even Kal couldn't break. The circle of its influence was bigger than the small rock Batman had taken from Superman that fist fight, which meant Bruce had sought out more. Clark stayed at the back of the crowd, watching as Brucie entered, deep in conversation with a tall, dark, and handsome stranger. 

Bruce gave his speech, and looked over the crowd as the winner of the first kiss was chosen. Bruce's eyes stopped, hesitating long enough on the distant figure of Clark before jumping guiltily and looking around more, all the while keeping his face locked in his vague, Brucie persona. Impressive control, but not as impressive as the tight lid he kept on his emotions, letting only a faint trail of them through when he saw Clark, not enough for Clark to identify what he was feeling. 

That was alright, as Clark wasn't sure what he was feeling either. He watched Bruce kiss the winner of the auction, a tiny woman with more hair than cells in her body, and Kal didn't even raise a protest. All of him was pretty numb as Clark left the building and the city, thinking he'd left his dreams behind. 

sB _Sb_ Bs

Winter wasn’t about to give up without a fight, so Valentine’s day in Metropolis included snow. It had turned into mush that froze over when the sun fell, so very few people risked the slick pavement unless they had to. Restaurants and bars emptied early, before the pavement was solid ice. Superman was left empty streets to patrol and nothing to distract him from the emptiness in his life. 

Going home to watch whatever stupid, romantic crap was on TV didn’t hold any appeal at all. For some reason, Perry had insisted he take tomorrow off, so Clark felt no need to even try to sleep. Lacking anything better to do, Clark started flying across the planet in a growing spiral. Even with stopping to help everybody he could, about two hours after dawn in Metropolis, Clark ran out of planet. 

Returning to his apartment, he changed into sweats but didn’t see any reason to shower. Pulling up the Daily Planet website, he read through the paper and managed not to rip his computer in half when he saw the picture of the Valentine’s dance on the society page. He was surprised at his restraint, but didn’t have the will to move that picture off of his screen. He could only promise himself that when the computer went to sleep from lack of use, he wouldn’t wake it up to continue staring. 

No point in that promise, because the computer going dark didn’t mean the picture wasn’t burned into his brain. His brain would always be able to pull up that picture of Brucie, vacant smile in place, as he draped his arms over the shoulders of two equally vacant looking women. That wasn’t what hurt; he knew Brucie had a reputation to maintain. He also knew that Bruce hadn’t slept with anybody since the loft. Bruce hadn’t even touched himself, as if all his desire had been shoved away with a confused Clark. 

A knock on the door brought Clark’s attention away from the picture embedded in his mind. As much as he had longed for a distraction, Clark now found he didn’t want to be disturbed. He couldn’t even be bothered to x-ray the door to see who it was, let alone answer it. Doubtless Batman would have something snarky to say about that, about not getting all information before making a decision or not planning ahead. Clark no longer cared. 

About Christmas, Clark had discovered that when he got this bone weary and emotionally drained, the Bat-voice went away. He wasn’t sure why, but couldn’t be bothered to ask Jor-el. The knocking had stopped, but Clark’s phone rang before he heard his visitor leave. Seeing it was Martha’s cell calling, Clark tried to force himself to sound happy to hear from her as he answered. 

“Hey, Mom. What’s up?” 

“Open the door and I’ll tell you.” 

“What?” Clark couldn’t quite believe what she had just said, but was moving to the door anyway. He opened his door to find his parents, looking at him with serious expressions. Jonathan held a large picnic basket, while Martha calmly pocketed her cell. Clark stood aside to let them enter and tried not to be noticeably irritated at their unannounced visit. “So, why didn’t you tell me you were coming to Metropolis?” 

Jonathan grunted as he put the basket on the kitchen counter, and then turned to Clark as Martha began unpacking it. “We figured if we told you, you’d hide from us.” 

“What? I wouldn’t have done that.” Clark tried to be convincing, but he really was a terrible liar. Their exchanged look called him out on his lie, but they didn’t say anything. 

“I brought some food, because you used to like my cooking.” 

“What? Mom, I love your cooking!” 

“Yes, that’s why you’ve stopped eating with us. It’s hard to tell with you, because you always look so healthy, but I think you’ve lost weight.” Martha was giving him that mothering look that used to make him grin. Now he had to fight the urge to roll his eyes. “I am going to fix you a plate and heat it up. You will sit down and eat it, all of it, while we talk.” 

“Talk? What do we need to talk about?” 

“You know, son, this is going to take a really long time if you keep asking ‘what’.” Jonathan was trying to make a joke, but it fell on humorless ears. 

“Then tell me, so I don’t have to ask!” Genuine exasperation colored his voice and Clark almost had the wherewithal to feel guilty about speaking to his parents that way. 

Then they exchanged the irritating looks that allowed them to read each other’s minds. He actually could read Bruce’s mind, and he’d never have that kind of connection. Suddenly lost, he wandered over to the picture of Bruce and sat on the couch. He didn’t turn the computer back on, but the picture was in his mind. Bruce’s large, skilled hands dangled tantalizingly close to those women’s breasts, so the fingers weren’t in the picture. Clark really missed those hands! Why did they have to be attached to those wrists? Particularly that left wrist. 

A plate of hot food had to be placed in Clark’s lap before he remembered his parents were there. “Thanks, Mom.” 

“So Clark, how are things going with you?” Jonathan reverted to his political personality as he tried to be unemotional and diplomatic. 

“Fine.” Knowing it was the only thing he could do Clark started eating. His stomach wanted to reject the food he was swallowing, but his Mom would never leave if he didn’t eat it. 

“How is Bruce?” That question turned the food in his mouth to sand, and he had to work his control to keep from throwing up. He had to drown the sand with a glassful of acid before he could respond. 

“He’s fine.” 

“And how are things between you and, Bruce?” Jonathan had to clear his throat a little before saying Bruce’s name. They were right not to like that jerk. 

“I don’t really want to talk about him.” 

“We don’t care; you need to talk about it.” Martha didn’t bother trying to be unemotional, her son wasn’t happy so she wasn’t happy. “Your explanation in November missed a lot of details, and you haven’t said a single thing about it since.” 

“So you decided to ambush me?” 

“Pretty much.” A shrug of her delicate shoulders to say we only did what we had to do. “What is going on between you two?” 

“Nothing. It’s over, it’s done and it’s pointless to think or talk about it.” Clark knew it wouldn’t work, but he had to try. 

“Why is it over?” Senator Kent, asking for facts and details before making any decisions. 

“Bruce said it was.” 

“Bruce doesn’t love you?” Martha, going straight for the emotional heart of the matter. 

“I don’t know.” They knew about the link so Clark felt he had to explain a little more. “This link would only be useful if I asked him that point blank. He has too many other things going on in his head for me to figure out what he thinks about me.” 

“Why haven’t you asked him?” The question from his father was a return to the senatorial fact finding mission. 

“He won’t talk to me.” A knock on the door called for their attention. Clark couldn’t handle anymore company, so he decided to ignore it. His parents stared at him, but he moved his food around rather than explain. When they knocked a second time, the knocker didn’t stop. The repetitious pounding was so irritating that Clark got up and walked to the door, but it wasn’t irritating enough to make him hurry. Ollie and Chloe grinned at him once he opened the door. Chloe had a bag of subs and Ollie held two cases of beer. “Thirsty, Ollie?” 

“You’ve been out of beer since October; somebody has to correct that situation. Now move, not all of us are super strong.” Clark stood aside, and let all four of his uninvited guests greet each other before closing the door. When he faced them, he couldn’t even be bothered to try and hide his annoyance. 

“So are all of you here for the same reason?” 

Ollie looked at the Kents and shrugged. “Depressed Clark?” 

They nodded, so he turned back to Clark. “Yep, we’re all here for the same reason. Consider it an emotional intervention. Since you wouldn’t talk to Chloe, I told her what you told me on Halloween. Haven’t had a personal conversation with you since then, so I don’t know if anything has changed.” 

“Since Ollie told me, I’ve been researching the parties involved.” 

Clark watched another look pass between his lucky-to-be-with-the-one-they-loved parents. They wanted to know why Chloe was talking about more than one person, but had too much experience with keeping his secrets to ask in front of her. 

“I haven’t found anything you couldn’t get off the Gotham Gazette archives. I followed one lead, a program funneling money out of a mobsters account, and it crashed my systems. Do you know how hard it is to crash my systems?” 

“So why are you here instead of babysitting your systems?” 

“I am with my systems; it’s called the internet, Clark.” Chloe waved her laptop bag as she responded with a joking tone, but it didn’t fool anybody. 

The whole room was still scandalized at Clark’s aggravated tone. The old Clark would have apologized, but this Clark made his way over to the beer. It was warm, but Clark emptied a can anyway. Like he had so often before, he wished he could get drunk or find something that made he feel as good as a deep sniff of Bruce. He opened his senses and found the source of the odor he missed so much. 

Bruce was at a lunch meeting at a fancy restaurant in a downtown Gotham hotel. Maybe Clark should write a letter to Alfred after all, asking for some of Bruce’s workout clothes. He hadn’t done it before, because in his rational moments it seemed creepy and stalker-like behavior. Times like now, it seemed the only way to get part of what he so desperately needed. Alfred was a nice guy, he would understand, as much as anyone could. 

A sudden wetness on his face brought him back to his apartment kitchen. They were all looking at him with concern, but Chloe was the one standing in front of him with an empty water bottle. “You back with us, Clark?” 

“I didn’t go anywhere!” He growled at her as he grabbed a paper towel to wipe water off his face. Now all four of them were exchanging looks that called him a liar. 

When his face was dry, Chloe pulled him into the living area. Ollie had pulled Clark’s two kitchen chairs over next to the couch where his parents sat, and Chloe sat in the empty chair. Clark could have sat back on the couch but didn’t want to be touched any more than he wanted company right now. With his back to the TV, he pulled his legs up to sit cross legged in mid air. Almost just like what he had done in GCPD headquarters all those months ago. Almost a year now since Gordon had wished him luck in dealing with Batman. An idle comment that had proven spot on. What had Gordon known then that could have prevented all of this? 

“Clark!” Ollie and Martha at the same time, it was a different sound than Martha and Jonathan calling to him together. Just different enough to get his attention. 

“What?” 

“How long have you been doing that?” Confusion and motherly concern, but Clark didn’t know what Martha was referring to. 

“What, sit-flying?” 

“No! Spacing out, tuning out the world for minutes at a time!” 

“Oh, that.” Clark wasn’t concerned with something as irrelevant as that. He didn’t do it on patrol and it didn’t affect his life so it wasn’t a problem. “Occasionally, I check in on Bruce, OK?” 

“What do you mean by that, son?” Jonathan sounded like he was afraid to find out. Clark had tried to tell him Bruce was kidding that day in the loft, but Jonathan still believed he had walked in on his son being dominated by Bruce “the Perv” Wayne. 

“I’m stalking him, from here.” A matter of fact tone that Bruce would have been proud of, if he cared the slightest bit for Clark. “I’ve learned this nifty trick of focusing in on the people I care about to hear their heartbeats. Which reminds me Dad, I think you need to have your cardiologist check your medicine levels. Sometimes when you’re asleep, your heart skips beats.” 

“Thanks for that, I’ll have the doc check it out.” Clark could almost smile at the ease with which his parents accepted that he could hear their hearts around the world. But Jonathan wasn’t done speaking and his words ripped the slight amusement out of Clark. “But just listening to his heart doesn’t sound very stalker-like, so what else are you doing to him?” 

Clark sighed and rested his elbow on his right leg and his chin in his hand. “With Bruce, I can focus in so intently I can kind of sense his surroundings by echolocation or something. I combine that with the news and his emotions, so I know everything he does and how he feels about it.” 

“Clark, look at yourself.” His dad sounded kind of irritated at him now, and Clark was only slightly curious as to why. “You’re not exactly limited by train schedules. Why don’t you make him talk to you?” 

“Exactly!” Ollie added, with a gesture from his half eaten sub. 

Clark sighed heavily. “I take it none of you have seen a picture of Bruce since New Year's?” 

“Given your interest, we have been paying close attention to news about him.” Martha wanted it understood that she didn’t understand the attraction, but would look for it if it would make Clark happy. “Why?” 

Clark used his eyes to gesture at the laptop. “Hit a key, and tell me what you see.” 

They all leaned in to get a look as Martha worked the computer. They stared at the picture for a long minute, apparently not seeing what Clark was talking about. He rolled his eyes and spoke again. “That's when he started wearing that bracelet. Day and night, everywhere he went, with every outfit.” 

The picture showed a good detail of the bracelet, but Clark already had it burned into his mind’s eye. The fancy gold links were masculine enough, and it fit so well he could move without restrictions. It was smooth enough to fit under an armored sleeve and glove, as long as the large stone was under the wrist. The only thing more painful than being near that stone was knowing that it had been made just to keep him away. 

“When he kicked me out, I was going to give him a few days to cool down. I called the next day and he was unavailable. Fine, he’s busy and needed to think. I waited a couple of more days and tried again, still unavailable. Went to see to him at a press event on and couldn’t get within a hundred yards of him.” 

“So, not an emerald from a Russian oil czar like the tabloids claimed.” Ollie had been paying attention to Bruce too, probably to try and understand what his friend saw in him. 

“I thought he felt something, he just wasn’t ready to say it out loud. So I was giving him time and space to adjust to things. He goes out, has a bracelet made to order and attaches the largest piece of Kryptonite he can find to it. I don’t know why the rock doesn’t kill the link; it would give me a little peace if it did. He doesn’t give a damn about what it might do to me, just as he doesn’t give a damn about me.” Clark closed his eyes to fight back the churning, nameless emotions rising up at his words and heard a knock on his door. “For fuck’s sake!” 

“Clark!” An outraged mother. 

“Mind your language!” An outraged father, just to complete the set. 

The knocker would have heard their voices reacting to his soft words of frustration, so he put his feet on the floor and went to the door, again. He should have expected the two cups of coffee and box of donuts would come with an irate Lois. He stood back and let her in, to the delight of everybody else in the tiny, cramped apartment. She sat on the couch with his folks and passed out the donuts, but kept both coffees in front of her. Clark leaned his butt against the kitchen counter and watched. 

“When I found out Perry had given Clark the day off, I decided to use my lunch break to cheer him up. If I had known you were all coming, we could have planned the menu better.” 

Clark used to be fascinated with the way she could talk with her mouth full like that. She’d never shut up if she learned to throw her voice like Bruce. Clearly he had worked to make his voice a tool, just like everything else in his arsenal, but did he know there were nights when Clark masturbated to the sound of that growl interrogating criminals? Probably not, as he couldn’t even be bothered to bug Clark’s apartment anymore. There had been genuine sorrow in him when he kicked Clark out, so why wasn’t it enough to bring him back to Clark? Lois’s shrill laugh brought him back and he had no idea what they were talking about. 

“I wish it was that simple, Ollie. Clark’s been nuts at work! If I didn’t know it was impossible, I’d swear he was proofreading everybody else’s work before it was submitted to Perry, just for something to do.” 

Clark tried to look innocent; he had been doing that. He’d also been moonlighting as the obituaries writer while the regular guy was in rehab. He patrolled hours longer than his assigned shift, but Lois wouldn’t know about all that. When he finally got around to sleeping, he focused in on Bruce and let the metronome of his heart rock him to sleep. If that beat went too far away from Bruce’s baseline, Clark would be hovering in Gotham airspace in two minutes flat. He had taken to sleeping in pajamas, just in case he was called there. 

“So Kat says Perry was yelling at Clark, telling him to remember who the editor here was and his word was law. Crap like that, and Clark looks at him and says ‘I only wanted an article to write, not an exhibition of infantile behavior.’ Our Clark, making snarky, insubordinate comments! So Perry gives him three days off to ‘think about his attitude.’ The rest of the staff bargained him down to one, because Clark had volunteered to cover the desks for Valentine’s weekend, and everybody already had plans. So when I got back and heard about all this, I came over for a little lunch and cheer. So what did I miss? Have you figured out what to do about Brucie and Sherlock?” 

“Sherlock?” Ollie looked at Lois, then Clark and made the connection. “Right, Sherlock. Good one, Clark.” 

Chloe understood it quicker, but Clark now had one more thing to explain to his parents. They probably figured he had the hots for three guys now. Or had he even told them about Batman? Sad part was, they were closer to correct than the people who thought he only had to worry about two guys. Lois was eyeballing Ollie in the way that made people with secrets weep. 

“So he told you who Sherlock really is?” 

“Yes I did Lois, and Ollie is not going to tell you. So let it go or try to get it out of me.” There was a real command in his voice and everybody turned to stare at him. Those looks every time he showed emotion were really starting to piss him off. Between the time the knuckles lifted off the door and come back for another knock, Clark was yelling at the door. “Go away!” 

A moment of hesitation and a calm voice replied. “I am afraid I cannot do that, Sir. My instructions were very clear on the subject.” 

“Alfred?” Clark was too dazed to do more than say the name for a long moment, and then he had waves of hope to kill. His guests were reacting to the name with varying degrees of concern. Lois knew Alfred was Brucie’s butler, his parents knew Alfred disliked Bruce’s interrogation tactics. His mom knew the British voice that had called the house, but didn’t know that was Alfred. He didn’t think he had mentioned Alfred to Chloe or Ollie, though Ollie had wondered about Bruce’s guardian at some point and might have looked it up. This kind of confusion was why he hated secrets. He must have spent longer than he thought trying to sort out who knew what, because Alfred cleared his throat and called out. 

“I have a delivery for you, Sir.” Clark spun off the counter and raced for the door. If there had been room to get up to speed, Lois would have figured out his secret in that instant. He must have looked hopeful when he threw open the door, because Alfred was quick to speak. “I am afraid it is work related, sir. To be hand delivered to you, with the information that it is for your eyes only.” 

Clark felt his tiny hopes die as he took the proffered package. A gentle hand on his arm and he moved aside to let his Mom talk to Alfred. “So you’re Bruce’s Alfred?” 

“Indeed, Madame.” Alfred inclined his head to her as he hid his amusement at the phrasing. 

“You called our house, I’m Martha Kent.” 

“It is truly a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Kent.” He shook her proffered hand with a sincere smile of happiness. 

“Call me Martha, please. I heard you raised Bruce, so I know your loyalty is to him. But do you think you could talk to us for a while before you have to return to Gotham?” 

Alfred stared at Martha while he considered her request, but it was a glance at Clark that got him speaking. “My loyalty resides with the Wayne family. Regarding his shameful behavior toward Master Kent, I feel I have failed the Wayne family in what I taught him. However, I have tended to Master Bruce for a long time. You should appreciate that it is not only loyalty that binds me to him. If you can accept that I will not divulge any of Master Bruce’s secrets, I will gladly talk with you.” 

Martha smiled and moved aside so he could enter the apartment, she understood all too well the love one could feel for a child not of your blood. Clark closed the door behind him and held the package to his chest. If he opened it when he was alone, maybe it would smell of Bruce for an instant. Work related and for his eyes only, so it wasn’t an apology gift and Clark couldn’t let himself hope it was. 

Was Bruce enough of a bastard to send a deadly amount of Kryptonite with Alfred? No, because Alfred would realize what was happening and save his life. How screwed up was his life when he had to rely on the butler of the man he loved to keep the man he loved from killing him? Absurdly fucked up, he answered himself but Alfred was there to keep his thoughts from wandering too far. Alfred was done with the introductions and ready to provide information on Bruce. Ollie had insisted Alfred take his chair, so Clark stood as close as he dared. He knew he would be able to hear every word no matter where he stood, but Alfred was a connection to Bruce. 

“So Alfred, has Bruce been happy recently?” Martha was being diplomatic, not wishing to make Alfred regret his answers. 

“Happy, Mrs. Kent?” Alfred was amused at the suggestion, but only he and Clark knew why. “Happiness does not figure into Master Bruce’s calculations.” 

“Calculations from Brucie? That’s funny Alfred, because that guy couldn’t spell calculations. Unless, like Clark suggested months ago, he’s fa...” Ollie noticed how Alfred suddenly needed to adjust his cufflinks. He glanced at Clark to share the joke and saw Clark’s normally mobile face frozen in a scowl. Ollie thought it through and came to a conclusion that had escaped Clark for a very long time. “No shit, Sherlock!” 

“And we have comprehension!” The sarcastic comment was to hide Clark’s anger at now having yet another layer of secrets and lies in his life. Ollie had told Chloe what he knew, but now he knew something she didn’t, if the looks she was sending him were any indication. Besides, Chloe hadn’t been there when Clark asked if Brucie could be faking stupidity for some reason. Lois knew there was a story here and was already planning how to get the information out of Ollie and Chloe. Alfred had swiveled in his chair to look at Clark with frowning, thoughtful eyes. 

“Mister Kent, are you aware you seem to be channeling Master Bruce?” Somebody laughed at that comment, but Alfred was as serious as always. 

The Kents were all concerned, but for different reasons. They thought their son might be experiencing a new aspect of the link they couldn’t fix for him. Clark wondered if the Bat-voice hadn’t disappeared, it had just taken over all of his emotions. That would explain why he had felt only anger, regret, and despair for the past few months. He wasn’t getting over Bruce like he should have; he was trying to make himself into Bruce so he wouldn’t miss him so much. 

Was that even possible, and if so, did it mean Bruce felt this way too? If Bruce always felt this, it would explain why it was so hard for him to take what Clark had to offer. But, if Bruce had only felt this way since November, then wouldn’t talking to Clark have fixed it for both of them? 

_Fur Elise_ chimed out from Alfred’s pocket, dragging everybody’s attention away from Clark’s thoughts racing across his expressive face. Alfred spoke as he pulled the phone out of his pocket. “That will be Master Bruce. I would appreciate it if you could remain silent for this call.” 

Everybody froze and tried to breathe quietly, because they didn’t want to get Alfred in trouble. Clark wasn’t at all surprised at the call, as catching people doing what they knew better than to do was what Bruce did best. Still, he didn’t breathe either as he listened to both sides of the conversation. 

“Master Bruce?” 

“Well?” 

“The item has been delivered, per your instructions.” 

“Took long enough.” Why couldn’t the man use that beautiful voice to speak more than three words at a time? Why did he always have to sound so angry? 

“The recipient had taken the day off, and I had to take it to his apartment.” 

“And?” 

“He accepted it, with the disappointment I told you to expect.” Alfred’s voice changed in a subtle way that let Bruce know he did not approve of his mission or Bruce’s methods of ignoring emotional consequences. Bruce took a deep breath before speaking again, in a much softer tone. 

“So, how was he?” 

Alfred glanced at Clark, fully aware he could hear every word. Clark wasn’t concerned about Alfred anymore, he was listening to Bruce. He was still at the lunch, but hiding in a bathroom stall to make a phone call. Concern reached out to Clark from the link. Bruce wanted to know that he was fine! The joy he felt at that thought fell away as he realized Bruce wasn’t concerned enough to ask personally. 

“Worse than expected, Master Bruce.” Alfred’s tone was still professional and guarded, but he clearly blamed Bruce for Clark’s condition. Silence reached across the distance, until Batman came to Bruce’s rescue. The emotions shut down and Bruce’s voice took on a gravely quality. 

“It had to be done.” The phone was disconnected just as a hand started banging on Clark’s door. Clark had absolutely no emotion left to care about who it was now; he just went to open it, and leave it open. 

“What are you doing at home?” Perry was demanding before the door even opened all the way. “Once you’ve gotten over your little snit, there’s work to do!” 

Perry showed his concern differently, but he was as worried about Clark as everybody else in this room. Clark knew he should have felt the love packed into his apartment, and it should have made him feel better. He wrapped a friendly arm around Perry’s shoulders and steered him into the apartment. “Look everybody! Perry is here to join the cheer-up-Clark-club! Why don’t you all get acquainted, while I nip out to pick up the club jackets?” 

Clark was closing the door and gone before they could protest what he had just said. He shut them out of his mind and cradled Bruce’s package to him. He had to take the stairs to the roof, since he couldn’t fly out of his window, but he would be at the fortress soon enough. Anticipation propelled him and he made record time to the Fortress. He locked it behind him, even though he knew it was stupid. He’d never told Bruce about this place and nobody else could get to him here. 

In the smallest room of the fortress, he carefully opened the cardboard box. Only a layer of clear tape held the ends shut, as Bruce had given it to someone he trusted to do what he asked. Clark pulled up the lid and inhaled deeply. The smells of cardboard, paper, rubber gloves, electronic equipment and hunter’s soap were all that his nose could detect. Why did that man have to overthink things, and deny Clark everything? 

The box held a device like the one Bruce had used to blind him in the woods. A post-it note on the screen contained an arrow and the word ‘thumb.’ Like Clark couldn’t figure out a thumbprint biometric security measure, but could tell that the word thumb meant ‘place your thumb here to have the device turn on.’ Where had Bruce got his thumbprint to program into this thing, and did Clark really want to know? 

The device whirled to life after he put his thumb on it, so he removed the post-it to see what was so important. Two files were saved on the Bat-thing, one labeled Intergang, the other was simply Superman. If it was personal, he would have labeled it Clark. At least that’s what Clark told himself to fight down a fresh wave of hope. If he saved Superman to open second, it was only because he was going in alphabetical order and had nothing to do with the pointless hopes he couldn’t kill. Intergang was a series of files on Batman’s research into a group that was getting together with the sole purpose of killing Superman. Clark would force himself to care about that later, right now he had to stop his hand from trembling as he opened the Superman file. 

Clark scrolled slowly through the meticulous research on him. Everything was here, including notes on the blind Superman phone app, properties of Kryptonite, and an analysis of his sperm sample. The notes didn’t include information on how Brucie had procured and analyzed a sperm sample but the date said it had been that first night at the manor. Even when presented with this much data, Bruce still gave Clark more questions than answers. 

Was deleting these files Bruce’s way of removing all trace of Clark from his life? No, Bruce didn’t give away information, so he still had copies on his computers. All of this was for Clark’s benefit; Clark just had to figure out what good it would do him. As slowly and meticulously as the files had been prepared, Clark went through them. He used every trick and skill at his disposal to find the hidden message. 

sB _Sb_ Bs


	7. A New Dancer

Nothing, absolutely nothing, came of all his searching. As far as he could tell, he was just holding backup copies of the files in case Batman needed the information again. Jor-el had told him that death would break the link, so maybe Clark needed to kill Bruce. Or at least fry his brain.

Confused, tired, and dead inside, Clark returned to Metropolis. Getting back to his life there would give him something to do. He hoped his company would have gotten the hint and left, but his parents were sitting on the couch watching TV when he flew in the window. They stood to greet him, but he headed for the kitchen and a glass of water. He filled the glass a second time before turning to their hurt stares. 

“Well, I texted everybody to let them know you’re alive, anyway. But apparently not better.” Jonathan didn’t even try to hide his anger, so Clark didn’t hide his annoyance. 

“I’m fine, just different. Get used to it or leave me alone.” 

“Maybe we should leave you alone to wallow in your misery! I might be retired, but I still have better things to do than hang out in your apartment waiting on you to put in an appearance. I’ve got thawing fields that need to be turned before the spring weeds take over, but I put that off for a week trying to fix the problems you’re too cowardly to face!” Jonathan was shouting and his blood pressure was noticeably rising. He couldn’t accept this change in the boy he had raised, the boy who had always faced everything head on. 

“Cowardly! That stupid bracelet will kill me but maybe I should go and ask Bruce for money. After all, leaving your precious fields for a day trip will prevent you from making any money this season.” 

“Jonathan, enough!” Martha stepped between them before Jonathan could yell back, a strange look on her face. When she turned to Clark, her voice tried for calm but had a panicky edge that got their attention. “Clark, what day do you think it is?” 

Nonplussed, he shrugged as he answered. “Monday, twenty minutes after sunset.” 

“Oh sweetheart, it’s Friday.” She was really worried now, and Jonathan’s blood pressure wasn’t going down. “Where have you been?” 

“At the fortress, trying to figure out what Alfred brought to me.” Startled into honesty, Clark couldn’t piece together where that time had gone. “I didn’t sleep or eat; I didn’t even feel the need to. I don’t understand what’s happening to me or have a clue how to fix it. Please go away, before I hurt you anymore.” 

“But honey, we can’t leave you anymore than you can leave Bruce.” Martha sounded like she knew what was going on, so Clark looked to her for answers. “It’s love, it’ll do that to you.” 

For the first time in four months, Clark threw back his head and laughed. That was what everybody had said about Brucie! All the warning signs, all the clues were there, he had just been too far gone to see them. The universe had tried to show him it all came down to Bruce, but he hadn’t wanted to see it, reveling in the challenge and mystery before him. 

“Mom, you’re more right than you know. I’m sorry for the way I’ve been, and I’ll apologize to everyone. I don’t know how to fix it, but I will find a way, instead of moping around my apart...” The amusement was gone, because Bruce was screaming in his head. His hand crushed whatever was in it and people where calling his name. It was insignificant as he tracked the source of the pain. Gotham was full of screams, panic and fearful people. But the noise Bruce was making got worse as Clark worked to understand it. 

The pain drew him to the outskirts of Gotham, where panicked people fled from a circus tent. Batman was taking over, shutting down the link and trying to shut down the pain that Bruce felt. With that pain reduced, Clark could think enough to land in the trees and figure out what was going on before doing anything rash. Whatever had happened here, the physical threat was gone. The aftermath was what had Bruce’s emotions leaking around Batman’s control. Cop cars and ambulances were wailing their sirens, and people shouted to each other over the noise. Clark opened his senses, absorbing everything going on around him at once. He didn’t know he could do this, but he would do and be whatever Bruce needed of him. 

When he understood, he wanted to run to Bruce, hold him and promise it would all be ok. He started that way, but saw something that stopped him. At a charity night circus for the elite of Gotham, Bruce talked to Gordon. Batman was forgotten, and Brucie disappeared because neither of them belonged here. Gordon saw the change and just kind of went with it, like he went with a man in a cape coming into his office. 

There were people everywhere, oblivious to what was happening. They missed it when Bruce knelt before a small boy in a costume and was at a loss for words. His heart was screaming pain at the universe, and only Clark could hear it. Hours passed while phone calls were made and papers signed, with Bruce standing guard over the boy, daring anybody to try and hurt him further. Clark couldn’t help with this, despite all his skills, he could only bear witness. 

Finally, Alfred was driving away in the limo, with two passengers in the back. Clark followed at the edge of the kryptonite’s influence, dazzled by what he saw. Bruce unprepared, raw, vulnerable and still more concerned with others than himself. A lesser man would have given into his despair, his feelings of failure, but Bruce was ignoring it to help an innocent. 

Clark watched as Bruce and Alfred worked to settle Dick into a room, in a comically large t-shirt and shorts of Alfred’s. Alfred brought up milk and cookies, tucked him in and read him a bedtime story. Bruce hovered in the background, slipped out for a minute but returned in time to watch the boy find sleep. Dick’s eyes closed, his breathing settled and it was Batman who stalked out of the room. 

Even Batman was angry at what had happened tonight, and Superman was needed to keep the world safe from that. Clark allowed Bruce to enter the cave before him, and got as close to Bruce as he dared. Bruce had stripped down to his pants and socks as he pulled up information on the computer, so he only had to reach over to turn off the alarms Clark tripped. He didn’t stop reading his displays as he talked, so Clark categorized the new bruises and scars. 

“I take it you heard about tonight.” Bruce didn’t bother to raise his voice, knowing Clark could hear him. This made Clark smile, because it showed Bruce accepted him as he was. Even his parents still raised their voices to get his attention. 

“I heard your pain, and I had to respond.” 

Slowly, as if he was doing it against his will, Bruce changed one of his screens. Now Clark could see himself as Bruce’s cameras saw him, so very far away from Bruce. Raggedy, mismatched sweats hung off of him. He had lost weight like his mother thought. He also had a full beard, and his eyes looked hollow from lack of sunlight. There was too much of Batman in Bruce right now to get many emotions from him, but Bruce did stare at the monitor for a while. 

“If your little gang couldn’t get through to me, letting yourself go to pot won’t do it either.” Well, Clark hadn’t expected that, especially considering he couldn’t even understand it. 

“What gang?” 

Bruce turned around to glance at him with just a trace of surprise. He faced the computer to pull up security footage on the large monitor at the top. Clark watched as one of the daytime servants took Brucie’s coat. Then Alfred was there, showing Bruce into the drawing room. Alfred closed the door behind them and stood in front of it, blocking Bruce’s retreat from the cheer-up-Clark-club that had been in his apartment last Clark saw them. 

There was no sound, but they rounded on Bruce with demanding expressions and yelling mouths. To his credit, Bruce took their condemnation for five solid minutes before enacting his escape plan. He made his way over to the decanter and offered everybody a drink. He flapped his jacket as if he was hot, raised the window and then slid out of it. Everybody moved toward the window, but Ollie and Lois actually went through the window after him. No way they would find him on his turf, but it was still heartwarming to see. As Alfred started apologizing to the remaining people, Clark turned back to Bruce. He had a couple of mug shots on one of the monitors and was scrolling through a file titled ‘known associates.’ 

“Are those the guys responsible? I could find them if you wanted, let you spend some time with Dick.” 

“He’s asleep.” 

“He might wake up to pee and get lost on his way to the bathroom. Your house is big enough.” 

“That’s why I gave him a room with the bathroom in it. Besides, I slipped a sleeping pill into his milk.” 

“You can’t give kids sleeping pills!” 

“I gave him half the recommended dosage for his mass and body size. He needed sleep more than he needed to dwell on this night.” 

“If you say so.” Clark sighed to show his willingness to let it go. Bruce was the expert on what to do when your world crashed down in one random act of violence. “But I could still go after the bad guys; you seem kind of emotional about this.” 

“I am emotional, but I also have a plan. A very rational plan.” 

“Would you please share this plan with me?” 

“I’m going to find them, find the proof they did this, and then I’m going to kill them.” The link didn’t tell Clark it was a lie, but he still didn’t believe it. 

“You’re exaggerating, right? You’re a protector, not a killer.” 

“Since I’m a failure at protecting, I’m moving into teaching. These guys obviously aren’t learning what’s allowed in my city. Their deaths will serve to motivate others to learn.” 

“You’re serious! You really are planning on crossing that line.” Clark was astonished, but had to prevent such a catastrophe. “Bruce, I’ll have to stop you.” 

“How do you plan on doing that; asking nicely?” A snarky Bat-comment and he still couldn’t be bothered to look up from his computers. 

“If you’re going to start killing, you’ll have to start with me.” 

Bruce responded by holding up his left wrist and shaking the bracelet. A not so subtle way of telling Clark he had the means, but Clark was in his head. Bruce had the means but not the will. Whatever he felt about Clark, or wouldn’t let himself feel about Clark, he didn’t want to kill him. Not much of a declaration of affection, but Clark held it in his heart as he walked forward. 

At first it was a whisper of pain, but it increased with each step. Soon it hurt so bad he wanted to cry, puke, and run away, instead he took another step forward. He was twenty five feet from Bruce when it occurred to him that he felt more alive in this instant than he had in the four months since Bruce had kicked him out. That bizarre thought got him five feet closer to Bruce, let him hear Bruce’s triumphant growl because his enhanced gifts were long since gone. 

“Got ‘em!” A pause while he transferred the data, then he was speaking again. “Clark, you can leave while I get dressed.” 

When a glance at the monitor didn’t show Clark, Bruce turned to look. He jerked back and slammed into his computer bank as he saw Clark crawling toward him. Clark wasn’t sure when he had lost the ability to walk, but in fifteen feet he would be with Bruce or dead. Either version of paradise was fine with him at this point. He had to explain that to Bruce so he forced himself to speak. 

“Killing me Bruce.” That wasn’t what he meant to say so he tried to speak again, but Bruce was reacting. 

Fingers skilled enough for brain surgery were trembling so badly he couldn’t hold onto the bracelet. He got a grip and pulled, breaking the links so he could fling it as far away as possible. It was an excellent throw and Clark could feel the effects lessoning. Clark sagged with relief and took some deep breaths. A few minutes to recover and he could force Bruce to talk to him at long last. But Bruce wasn’t a talker, as he demonstrated by heaving Clark to his shoulders and staggering to the elevator. 

With every bit of space put between him and that rock, Clark felt better. He even considered standing on his own feet. But his brain was working better too, and it happily pointed out that Bruce was touching him, taking care of him. Clark bit the insides of his cheeks to keep from grinning, as that would give the game away. Carefully, he snuggled onto Bruce and inhaled, almost feeling like himself again. 

Something clattered to the ground, and then Bruce was laying him on a hard wooden surface. Clark could force his eyes open but he couldn’t force himself to let Bruce walk away like he was trying to do. Clark’s right hand clasped Bruce’s left and that simple contact was enough to make him forget about the greenhouse Bruce had brought him to. 

“Let go, Clark, I need to turn on the sunlamps.” Bruce’s voice sounded worried, finally matching the emotions Clark was getting through the link. Bruce tugged on his hand, trying to reclaim it. Clark wasn’t letting go this time, and never again for that matter. 

“Need you more than sunlight.” Clark aimed for the voice he had used when he was in so much pain and Bruce responded to it. 

Bruce scanned the greenhouse and bent down to pick up a trowel he had knocked off the work table Clark now laid on. Clark wasn’t sure what Bruce was going to do with that, but forced himself to watch instead of ask. Using his left heel to pull off his right sock, Bruce positioned himself at the end of the reach of their combined arms. With his right foot on his left thigh, he put the trowel handle in between his big and first toes. With a graceful, balletic move he stretched his leg out and used the trowel to flip two switches. 

As artificial sunlight poured down on them, Clark bit the insides of his cheeks hard enough to draw blood, but he couldn’t laugh now. Couldn’t draw Bruce to him and make love to him for the rest of time; he had to be sneaky because that was what Bruce understood. “Skin absorbs, no clothes.” 

Clark now wanted to see how Bruce would get him naked when he wouldn’t let go of his hand. Bruce reached out with his naked foot and pulled a pair of hedge trimmers to him. He managed to work them with his right hand and left elbow to cut off Clark’s sweatshirt, and Clark was impressed. Bruce savagely yanked down the sweatpants, and got more than he bargained for. 

“I take it you’re feeling better.” The tone was annoyed, but genuine relief reached Clark, with more than a trace of desire. 

“Well, I am happy to see you.” Clark didn’t try to fight the erection growing under his boxers. 

“Clark, let go of me. I’ve got…” Clark jumped in before Bruce could finish that sentence; there was something he had to get straight. 

“People to kill Bruce?” Bruce sighed and looked away, but went with honesty as Clark would know if he lied. 

“No, I was fooling myself to think I could. The guy who cut the rope? He’s got a kid himself that he was trying to get visitation rights to. I can’t take away that kid’s right to know his father, even if he is a murdering bastard. You bought the time I needed to figure that out, now go away.” Bruce stayed beside the table to scowl down at Clark, but didn’t try to pull his hand away. 

“I can’t leave any more than you could leave me to die on the cave floor. I love you, and I think you love me.” Anger lashed out of the link, but Bruce’s honest words made Clark forget all about it. 

“Of course I love you, you lummox! How could I learn so much about you and not love you? You’re honest, brave, caring, intelligent, and hopeful in spite of the evidence. That’s the problem! I was thinking about you instead of the mission. I left my city for twelve hours and had a gang war inside a hospital! I enjoyed the Brucie seduction far too much. I invited you to my house hoping you’d figure it out and get so angry you’d leave me alone. 

Do you think I cancel nights of patrolling just to sleep with every person I want information out of? I was so comfortable with an unknown, unstoppable alien from another planet melting ice off my ceiling that I feel asleep! That little sleep-flying incident? I should have pulled out the kryptonite and figured out what was wrong with you. If you remember any of that night you know that didn’t happen. Do you have any idea how sexy it is when Kal takes what he wants? Or how heady it is when the most special being in existence wants you?” 

Bruce’s anger had trickled away as he spoke, until all Clark heard and felt was amazement and love. Pulling Bruce to him, Clark flew to the ceiling to dance with him. “That last one, about the most special being in existence wanting you? I just learned how heady that is; when you said you loved me. And if you think it’s sexy when Kal takes what he wants; wait till you learn what Clark is willing to do to be with you!” 

They twirled and kissed, erections trapped between them. Clark was using his two remaining brain cells to try and figure out the logistics of flying sex when somebody called to him. 

“Superman? Is Mr. Wayne a bad guy?” Clark couldn’t tell who was more embarrassed, him or Bruce as they looked down at Dick. Poor kid didn’t even have a teddy bear to drag around with him, and now his host was ‘wrestling’ with Superman. Clark set them down on the far side of the work table from the kid, hoping it would hide a few things. Bruce turned his back to the kid, and tried to fasten his pants. 

“No Dick, Mr. Wayne is a very good guy and I was trying to thank him for something.” 

“Cool! What did he do?” 

“Well, I wasn’t feeling too well. And Bruce brought me here because he knew the sunlamps would make me feel better.” 

“Maybe you should shave! The beard makes you look sick.” 

“Kid logic.” Bruce muttered before forcing himself to look at Dick. “Do you need something?” 

“You don’t seem like a good guy, but if Superman say’s you’re ok, you can’t be that bad.” 

Clark snickered and got a jolt of amusement from Bruce. “Thank you for that assessment, kid. Can you find your way back to the bedroom?” 

“I wanna fly with Superman!” 

“And I want you to go back to bed. Which do you think is going to happen?” 

“Bruce! Leave the kid alone. I don’t mind, it’s ok.” Clark spoke to Bruce in a soft voice; he didn’t want Bruce to scare the kid too much. Bruce replied in an even softer voice. 

“No, it’s not ok. It’s still very large and hard.” Clark blushed; his famed control wasn’t working all that well right now. Bruce still had a problem of his own, which Clark was really happy to see. Bruce made a decision but spoke to the kid in a much softer voice. “Look kid, um, Dick. Superman and his friend have something to do tonight. Unless there is some kind of emergency, he will be here in the morning. Then he can fly you around in the daylight, if you go back to bed, now.” 

“I get to fly with Superman! That’s so cool, but wait, what friend?” 

“Friend?” Bruce froze as he repeated the question. Clark tried not to laugh at him. 

“You did mention him, Bruce. It’s not Dick’s fault he’s smart enough to pick up on it.” Bruce shot him a glare but softened it before he looked back at Dick. 

“Once Superman’s done here, he’s going to track down some bad guys with Batman.” 

Dick’s eyes doubled in size and he jumped onto the tall table. Even Bruce was startled by this display of athleticism, but neither man dared move away from the protection of the table. “I wanna go! I wanna meet Batman too! Do you know how cool that would be? I would have to tell everybody I met that I got to hang out with Batman and Superman, tracking down bad guys! Could I have my own cape?” 

“Master Richard!” Alfred came hurrying in, looking unaccustomedly disheveled. “Forgive me, Sirs, but he seems to have wandered away when I fell asleep at my post. I shall return him to his bed, and make sure he stays there.” 

Dick moved away from Alfred’s arms, bouncing on the tabletop. His childish voice held a startling adult edge that nobody who heard it liked. “No, I’m gonna go with Superman! He’s gonna meet Batman and beat up bad guys! I know some bad guys I wanna show them.” 

“No!” Dick seemed like he had more to say, but Bruce cut across his words. “Batman’s not a nice guy; you’re not going to have anything to do with him.” 

Dick visibly sagged at Bruce’s words, and Bruce responded with soft words. “You can still fly with Superman, if you go with Alfred now.” 

Dick brightened up, and grinned at Clark. “First thing in the morning?” 

Clark grinned back at Dick, but still saw Alfred’s look. “It can wait until after breakfast, if you’re hungry.” 

Dick jumped off the table and let Alfred take his hand. Alfred paused to offer them a bowed head before leaving the room. “I will see you, both, in the morning, Sirs.” 

Bruce shook his head at their retreating backs, even as Dick started telling Alfred everything he knew about Superman. “I hate it when Alfred gloats.” 

“Yes, but you love it when I do this.” Clark pulled Bruce to him and kissed them both into full hardness again. It didn’t take long, and Bruce did love it. He had to force himself away to whisper in Clark’s ear. 

“Are you sure they’re gone?” 

Clark checked. “Halfway up the staircase, Alfred has a firm grip on his hand.” 

“Fine. We fix this,” Just in case there was any doubt what Bruce was referring to, he ground his erection into Clark, “then we get dressed and track down the bad guys.” 

“Sounds like a good plan, but this” here Clark ground his erection into Bruce, “will keep popping back up. It has missed you.” 

“Convince it that after the bad guys are in pain, I can give it my full attention.” Clark felt his brain cells short circuiting as they tried to figure out what that would entail. Bruce wasn’t helping as he pulled off their remaining clothes. 

“Promise?” 

Bruce used his left hand to position Clark’s right. Clark thought it was a handshake until he realized Bruce had both their right hands working the penises together. 

“Promise.” 

The growl of that promise speed up the short circuiting process, so Clark grabbed on to his remaining powers of thought. They had to get a few things clear and quickly, because Clark knew he wouldn’t last long. “No more Tony?” 

“Tony who?” 

“No more Catwoman?” 

“She is very flexible.” The tone made it clear Bruce wasn’t talking about an interest in her rooftop activities. The hand finding its way along the crack of Clark’s ass, paused what it was doing to smack him hard. “And good with that whip.” 

Clark shuddered from that suggestive tone, or what Bruce was doing, he didn’t know or care at this point. “Catwoman is negotiable, when you don’t have a finger up my ass. No more standard Brucie seduction.” 

“It’s my secret weapon.” 

“And your superpower, but it brings out my possessive streak.” 

A moment free of words, and then a Brucie whisper in his ear. “Does it now?” 

“Oh God, Bruce you wouldn’t? You would! Oh, God, Bruce. Bruce!” Clark jerked his head back just in time, sending his heat beams into the sky. The bite to his collarbone told him Bruce had just come too. He grabbed Bruce and rolled him under the table before the glass of the greenhouse roof could start landing around them. 

“Do you have to damage my house to climax?” Bruce was only idly curious, like he didn’t mind paying for it if it was necessary. 

Clark held him on top and grinned up at him. “I just lost it because it’s been so long. The more we do this, the safer your house will be. So consider yourself financially motivated to keep me happy. Speaking of which, no more sex room?” 

“Oh, I plan to keep that. But you’ll be the only one I bring in there.” 

“Really?” Clark wasn’t ready to use a seductive tone on their master, so he settled for unbridled enthusiasm. “So it’s empty now?” 

“Bad guys first, so go put on your work clothes.” 

“I can be back from my apartment… oh crap!” Clark was treated to a close up view of the table as he lost control of his sight in surprise. 

“What?” Bruce’s afterglow was gone as he readied to meet this threat. 

“I think I might have destroyed my kitchen when I left.” 

“I’ll buy you a new apartment building.” Bruce rolled his eyes; this was hardly a problem in his estimation. 

“I also left two very worried parents there.” 

“You’re on your own with that one.” Bruce was trying for flippant, but the truth was he didn’t know how to deal with parents. Alfred was less than a parent, but more than a father figure. 

“It would help if I could tell them when they are going to get to meet the real you.” Bruce stiffened where Clark still held him under the table. “Please Bruce, I can’t show the world, so you could at least let me show them how special you are.” 

Clark was afraid the silence would be his only answer, so he almost lost control of his sight again when Bruce did speak. 

“Tell them I’m getting them a grandson, they’ll forget all about me.” Clark was so surprised by all the implications of that he let Bruce slip out of his arms. Bruce pulled on his pants and shoved his underwear into a pocket, leaving a lonely sock on the ground. He sent commands over his shoulder as he headed for his cave. “Now go. I’ve got a bracelet to destroy and bad guys to pummel.” 

Clark got an image of that bracelet and for the first time in four months was thinking clearly enough to see what was wrong with it. Clark popped out from under the table to call after Bruce. “That bracelet, it didn’t have a clasp. It was designed to keep you from coming after me!” 

Bruce turned to shrug at Clark before going through the door he held open. “Physical pain is easier to get over.” 

A nonsensical phrase, but Clark knew what he meant, what he didn’t say. The emotions they were stirring in each other were stronger and more permanent than any physical need. 

“I love you too, Bruce.” Clark called out before the door closed, fighting down the urge to pull the maddening man to him and prove his love again. 

“Really? My detective skills didn’t pick up on that one.” Bruce heard him and responded for his ears as mechanics opened a secret passage. 

The snarky tone had too much love and affection behind it for Clark to take it seriously. He was grinning as he rinsed off under a garden hose and vibrated the water off. He pulled on his pants as he left through the hole in the ceiling he had made and went to calm his parents. He got back so soon, he had only thought up one thing he could say to explain it to them. It wouldn’t be easy, loving Bruce, but it would be worth it. 

sB _Sb_ Bs


	8. And So We Begin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A long awaited apology.

Dick woke up, excited and aware that Bruce and Clark were planning something. It was summer break from the posh school Dick had hated on sight, and he wanted to spend time with Bruce. He’d brushed his teeth, dressed and ran down to breakfast, disappointed that the surprise wasn’t waiting on him. Clark and Bruce might still be asleep, or busy somewhere.

He'd learned quickly that Bruce was very busy, as was Clark. But a lonely sounding text to Clark was all it took to get him showing up so they could play together. Bruce had several fancy words for it, but he'd still stop what he was doing to spend time with them, the manipulation team, as he called them. Most of the time Bruce spent with him was educational in some way, Dick could see that, but it was also fun and physical. Bruce thought it was important that he learn to think on his feet, Clark said, so Dick had started walking on his hands whenever he got bored with teaching his feet. 

Dick wasn't stupid, even without the formal education he was getting now, as the whole circus had taught him different things. The Professor, the circus performer who broke bricks over his head while sitting on a bed of nails, had taken his name from the fact he was qualified to be a physics professor. He'd taught all the kids at the circus as they went from town to town, and always been proud of how smart Dick was. Where the Professor would stop to praise Dick, and let him go play when he was especially clever, Bruce would move on to the next topic. So Dick knew he wasn't stupid, just as he knew people underestimated him, for what his Mom had called his chipmunk cheeks. Maybe he wasn't an adult, or had the best education money could buy, but he wasn't stupid. 

Just as he knew they were planning something, Dick recognized that Clark, Superman, a reporter from another city, wouldn't have met Bruce outside of press event. Bruce still pretended to date women occasionally, but it was to make news, he said. Why did he need to make news when he had a reporter as a special friend? Clark was a very special friend, who would spend time in Bruce's room when Dick was supposedly asleep. Bruce was always more relaxed after those sleepovers, so Dick went to bed earlier when Clark was over, to encourage it. Maybe that did make him a manipulator, but he liked it when Bruce was happy. 

He also knew that neither Bruce nor Clark wanted him to get too nosy about some things. What went on in the bedroom, Dick could guess, but he didn't want to think about the specifics of it yet. It turned out, that the idea of your adoptive parents having sex was just as disturbing as your biological parents doing it. It still made him sad to think of his parents, and angry to know that their murderers hadn't been arrested, but he knew that whatever Bruce was hiding in the library would make him feel better. 

He was encouraged to go in there, most of the time. But sometimes Bruce got a text on his phone, and he'd put Dick to bed and disappear into the library. Something in there would fill in the gaps he'd found in Bruce's life, he knew that, though he didn't know what. What book could explain how Bruce met Clark, how they fell in love, and what made Bruce good enough for Superman? Dick really liked Bruce, and he was special to him. Bruce had explained about his parents, the Waynes, while trying to hide his feelings. Bruce had done it so Dick would know why he cared, and that he wasn't alone. Dick had felt a strange desire to protect Bruce, as if the large man sitting beside him was breakable in some way. He wanted Clark to explain it, but he hadn't figured out how to ask. 

"Dick?" Clark called, and Dick dropped his book as he ran to find the man. 

Clark was downstairs, in jeans and a plaid shirt, with Bruce standing awkwardly beside him. Bruce was in a grey suit with a black shirt, but no tie. He was ready to go somewhere, but Dick couldn't imagine where. Bruce was always in sweats or a complete suit, so Dick paused on the steps when he was about eye level with them. 

"What's going on?" 

Clark laughed, but for a brief moment Bruce looked proud. Emotions didn't stay long on Bruce's face, so Dick had learned to be observant to see how Bruce was feeling. 

"Dick, since you have time off from school." Bruce started to say. 

"I'd have all the time off if you didn't make me go." 

Clark hid a smile, but Bruce pushed past the argument they'd been having since Dick realized Bruce was smarter than his teachers. Maybe he was even smarter than the Professor, but Dick wouldn't bet on that. 

"We didn't want to get your hopes up, in case it fell through, but how would you like to spend the week on a real farm?" 

"With animals and tractors?" 

"Some cattle, one horse for riding, a herd of goats and chickens." Clark responded. 

"Can you fly me during the day?" Clark was good about taking Dick for flights when he was around, but usually at sunset so nobody saw. 

"Yes." 

"Glad that's settled." Bruce spoke, glancing at his watch. "Alfred's packed the plane, so we're ready to go." 

"Bruce." Clark said, in that tone he used when he expected something of Bruce. Bruce would wait a moment or two, but in the end he'd do it, so Dick had learned to wait him out. With a sigh, Bruce stepped up to look Dick in the eye. 

"Dick, the people who own the farm are Clark's parents. I know things are strange here, but you and Clark are my family, or soon will be. So Clark's family is also your family, if you want." 

"I get grandparents?" Dick threw himself at Bruce, who caught him easily. He'd always wanted grandparents, but both his parents had been orphans who ran away to the circus. They'd planned on brothers and sisters for him, but they couldn't make grandparents. The circus family was still special to Dick, but this was going to be great, and he’d get to be with a whole new family. 

sB _Sb_ Bs

It was strange, Clark thought, riding in a plane with Bruce piloting it. Occasionally, Superman had flown beside the Batwing, going into a dangerous situation or to make faces at Batman while they talked over the comms. With growing frequency, Batman would allow Superman to pick him up, fly him into the action and drop him like a living bomb on the bad guys. Clark didn't know much about planes, except how to hold them so they didn't get crushed in emergency situations. But he knew Bruce handled this one with a casual elegance as it darted through the clouds. He knew Bruce would be able to land it in a muddy Kansas field without any problems. 

Bruce had told him the wings could be folded up, so the entire plane could fit into the barn, and that he could land the plane with the door open, should some emergency cause Clark to bail out. First and foremost, he'd have to make sure Dick was buckled in before jumping out that door, though the tone in which Bruce said it suggested Clark had better know that. Clark risked a glance at Dick, behind them in one of the two passenger seats, trying to look out all the windows at once. 

Dick was taking in the plane, the world through the windows, and Bruce's control with his standard wonder and enthusiasm. When he was like this, active and alert, he actually reminded Clark of himself, when he was young. Clark had grown up, learned control, and lost most of his innocence. He hoped Dick would be able to retain that enthusiasm longer than Clark managed, but doubted he would. His parent’s deaths had caused a fracture in his belief already. When there wasn't anything going on, when Bruce wasn't teaching Dick or working out with him in the house gym, Dick would get still, and silent. In these pauses, Dick reminded Clark of Bruce, who had been too smart for his own good, even before his tragedy. 

"Clark." Bruce's voice broke Clark out of his worried thoughts. "He'll be fine; adding your parents to his family will make sure of that." 

Clark smiled, and let his delight reach through the link. Bruce, though not born to it, had learned to use the link. He could read Clark's emotions even better than before, when all he had was his genius and Clark's expressive face. The Joker had gotten hold of some kryptonite, and Bruce had used the link to find him. Still, the most impressive thing was that Bruce was learning to let Clark in. 

It was still slow going with Dick, as the boy was smart and confused by the things he was told. He didn't understand why Bruce was so different than he was on the news, though he understood why he wasn't allowed to tell anybody about Clark being Superman. Clark wasn't sure how to make Bruce and Dick bond, but he hoped this trip would help. Clark worried he might even be the problem, as Dick adored him and couldn't understand the way Bruce was always with women on TV. They couldn't tell Dick the truth without explaining why Bruce had to be different in public, something Bruce had refused to do. He hadn't wanted Dick sullied with Batman, and wasn't open to discussing it. 

"Sit back, we're landing." Bruce called, mostly to Dick. 

Dick was buckled in, but leaning forward to see everything. There were two seats behind the pilot and copilot seats, which Bruce and Clark were in. Clark wondered if Dick would ever have a brother or sister to fill that seat, as Clark had wanted a sibling long before he knew he was from another planet. The landing was soft, though a bit bumpier than a landing on a paved road. 

"Would have been a great deal smoother if you let me fly." Clark groused, just because he could. 

"You remember how well it worked out the last time you tried to keep me prisoner in the middle of nowhere." Bruce replied, as he turned the airplane around, taxing it toward the farm. 

Ma and Pa emerged from the house, to grin at the plane, and Clark waved. 

"I don't see any cows." Dick complained, once again leaning forward in his seat, trying to see out all the windows at once. He was completely used to the bickering between Clark and Bruce, understanding it to be how they talked to each other. Dick made a small sound, and then backed it up with words. "But those look like perfect grandparents." 

The plane had stopped, and Bruce started flipping switches. Unsure if it was all for show, Clark couldn't call him out on stalling. 

"Go introduce them." Bruce ordered, and Clark had to obey. 

Dick still got out of his seatbelt first, but he let Clark open the door and flip down the steps. Dick shot out like he'd been in a catapult, feet not even touching the steps, and he was running, cartwheeling toward Ma and Pa. They walked toward him at a much more sedate pace. Clark got his body through the tiny door with a bit of an effort and arrived at the meeting of Dick, Ma and Pa just in time for Dick to get shy. He stopped a few feet away, looking at his feet. Charmed, Clark stopped beside him and introduced them. 

"Martha and Jonathan Kent, this is Richard Grayson." 

"Dick!" Dick piped up, hating his given name, as Clark knew he did. Martha sent Clark a knowing glance before offering her hand to Dick. 

"I'll call you Dick, if you call me Ma." 

Dick looked up, grinning, and shook her hand to seal the deal. 

Jonathan frowned, looking at Clark. "What should he call me?" 

Clark paused, not having thought about the question, though he was sure Bruce had. 

"I can call you Pa if you want." Dick offered, unaware of the real question. 

"I'd like that very much, Dick." Jonathan spoke to him, bending down a bit to do so. "I just wasn't sure if you called anybody else Pa or Dad." 

"My Dad died, which is how I came to live with Bruce and Clark. When Bruce explained about the adoption, he said I could keep calling him Bruce and Clark is Clark." Dick's constant state of moving paused, as he went to the still place that made Clark think of Bruce. "Is that wrong?" 

"No, that's fine, if that's what you and Brucie want." Jonathan's appeasing grin only faltered on the word 'Brucie', reminding Clark that Jonathan had never got over his first impression of the man. 

"Call me Bruce." 

Clark blushed a little, embarrassed about having been so caught up in the conversation he didn't hear the man approach. Dick had jumped at the unexpected voice, but when he landed it was right back into that stillness that worried Clark. 

"Wouldn't think you could sneak up on someone in all this flatland, but you scared us good." Jonathan said, trying to smile at Bruce. 

"I apologize." Bruce said. "In fact, I want to apologize for the way I acted the last time I was a guest in your lovely home. I may need to beg forgiveness for the abysmal way I treated your son, not so long ago." 

All the Kents blinked at Bruce in shock. Clark had known how bad Bruce felt about it, but Bruce would do anything in the pursuit of justice, without apology. Trying not to burst with pride, Clark turned to his parents. 

"I told you he was much nicer once you got to know him a little." 

"I’d have rather met this version the first time." Martha offered with a kind smile. "Though this gentleman is closer to what I imagined Alfred would raise." 

"Alfred did great with Bruce!" Dick declared, slightly offended, loving Alfred even if he wasn’t a grandpa. "You don't have to be nice or a gentleman to be Batman." 

Bruce looked at Dick, face rather blank. Everyone else looked between the two for a long moment, while they waited for an explanation or denial. Bruce shrugged. 

"Kid logic, but he did get to the right answer." 

So proud he could burst, Clark pulled Bruce to him for a thorough kiss of approval, delighted that Bruce hadn't tried to lie his way out of it. When he pulled away, Clark saw the subtle signs that his parents were relieved that Bruce was more than he seemed. They’d raised him, and had learned to roll with the punches, so they could handle Batman for a son-in-law. Clark wanted to laugh, but instead he put on a gruff voice and asked. 

"You would rather I was dating a dangerous vigilante than a multimillionaire playboy?" 

"Lex was a multimillionaire playboy who set his cap for you, and look at how that turned out." Martha said, matter-of-factly. 

Clark's brain hung up a little on the old fashioned phrase 'set their cap' but rallied quickly with a slightly more modern equivalent. "Well, Lionel Luthor had the hots for you, Ma, so are you taking the blame for all that?" 

"And Bruce drove you nuts." Jonathan mused. "I feel kind of left out that I haven't driven anybody insane with love yet." 

"Oh, yes you have." Martha said, with a glare. "I just didn't have the multimillionaire status needed to try and take over the world. 

"You could take over the world with that pie, if memory serves." Bruce offered, slightly charming but not the full Brucie treatment. 

"She just finished the first blackberry pie of the season." Jonathan started warming up to Bruce at last. "If Clark gives Dick a tour, the rest of us can go see how well it’s coming along." 

"It's coming along fine." Martha said. "And nobody gets a bite until after lunch." 

"I bet Batman could think of a way to get the pie from you." Jonathan muttered. 

Clark snuck a glance at Bruce, wondering if he would be offended. 

"I will admit to never having used my skill set in such an endeavor." Bruce replied, letting amusement through in his voice. The remaining tension shattered, and Dick grabbed Clark's hand. Clark let himself be dragged to the barn, half listening to Dick and half to his parents come up with reasons for Batman to steal a pie. 

Bruce chimed in with an idea for Ivy's lust dust being put in a pie and finding its way into a senator meeting, an idea that was distracting enough that Clark didn't hear all of what Dick said. It was something about being Batman's sidekick, but it was probably a childish game of pretend, so Clark didn’t think too much of it. Dick was still a child, and they'd find a way to get him out of his silences. With him and Bruce as parents, Dick would have as much love as he needed, and they'd live as happily ever after as they could. 

sB _Sb_ Bs


End file.
